


Affinity (Mòrag and Brighid)

by Melephs_Hat348



Series: Affinity (Mòrag and Brighid) [1]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-17 07:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melephs_Hat348/pseuds/Melephs_Hat348
Summary: Mòrag and Brighid slowly learn to become closer to each other in more than one way. (To be perfectly honest, I'm proud enough about this work that such a lame summary doesn't do it justice, but hopefully the works speak for themselves.)





	1. Affinity, Part 0: Falling Apart (Powerless)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t get enough out of the Mòrag-Brighid relationship in the game (I kinda wish there were more hints at Mòrag’s romantic interest, but oh well) so here I am. Hopefully I can describe the characters true enough to their characters; I can’t really say if I’m good at that.  
> There will be likely at least ten installments in this series, with a climax/finale around number eight or nine. Two titles will (usually) be made for each; they’ll be what the “title” of the situation would be if seen from either Brighid’s or Mòrag’s perspective. In this one, for example, the primary character is Mòrag and the secondary is Brighid; therefore the “Mòrag” title is Losing Control and the “Brighid” title is Chink in the Armor. I thought it was a cool idea, but the execution may or may not be satisfying.  
> Anyway—hope you enjoy! I won’t write this much at the beginning in the future (hopefully); don’t worry, haha. And stay awesome—yes, you are; I know you are.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Flamebringer and the Jewel of Mor Ardain both have onerous burdens to carry. Struggling with their problems alone is beginning to take its toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the chronologically-first entry, this is meant to depict, for the most part, how bad things are/were before this pair form a closer relationship. And yes, they’re pretty bad. Being Special Inquisitor and her first mate of sorts (lol there’s a pun in that one) can be a great burden; experiencing lonely desire is a terrible complement to that. This sets the goal of the rest of the chapters, as this is something that needs to be fixed. Somehow.
> 
> If this is the first one you're reading, don't worry. It gets a lot less depressing. Stay awesome, and stay happy. Enjoy!

“Another day over,” Brighid sighed.

“Another long day.” Under the dim artificial light, Mòrag felt more drained than she had outside the room. She opened the blinds that she hadn’t had the time to get to that morning, and tangerine sunlight trickled in—nearly nonexistent, but relaxing, at least.

Brighid was headed towards her bedroom as Mòrag collapsed onto her own. “Do you...need anything, my lady?”

It took a moment to construct a response. “...No; you don’t need to worry about me.”

“All ri—if you say so, Lady Mòrag.”

After the door clicked shut behind her Blade, the Special Inquisitor didn't move for a long while. Why would she move? That would mean giving in to duty, returning to the paperwork at her desk that she was desperately ignoring.

Things felt far too hectic already—the combination of issues with Uraya, Gormott, and Temperantia showed no inclination towards being merciful to her schedule. The old rivalries within the government were festering once again, and she could hardly stand being in a room now with Roderich and Dughall both in it, much less when they were constantly feuding.

_ I should take a shower tonight…. _

_ I should do a lot of things. _

She stretched, and her shoulder pressed against a damp spot on the sheets. Puzzled, Mòrag inspected it—only to notice that the liquid was seeping from her eyes in thin streams.  _ What— _

Accompanying the tears was an abrupt surge in the tides, an overbearing wave crushing her exterior shell. She turned sharply from Brighid’s door; it was the only thing she could do in the midst of her gasping sobs. Harnessing what little resistance she still retained, she held back as much of the sound as she could, smothering her face with a pillow. Body-contorting shivers shook her bed, and yet still she felt overcome by confusion— _ Why? What’s going on? You can’t let this happen to you! _

Her fingers gripped the sheets.  _ You’re strong. You can endure this—this whatever-it-is. You have to. _

But still, her trembling ensued.

 

* * *

 

“Please don’t hurt him; he hasn’t done anything wrong, and neither have I! I swear!”

“An eyewitness account proves your words false, boy. Don’t fret, though. We’re just going to take you in for some questioning. But we do have to discard your weapon.”

The boy—obviously far too young for such accusations to be true—received a disdainful look from the man who had alerted the military police. “Godfrey isn’t a weapon! He’s just a friend that protects me!”

“If you think I’d do anything to hurt someone else—”

“So you don’t even own it? I suppose we must have a word with whoever does, in that case. What’s their name?”

“My uncle Abenthy—but he didn’t—Godfrey would never—”

“Excuse me…” Brighid interrupted finally. “What’s the issue here, if I may ask?”

Surprisingly, the officer didn’t bow to his superior in the way that most other Mor Ardain citizens did. “Ah, the Special Inquisitor’s Blade. So glad you came at such an optimal time.” He turned to her with a smile Brighid chose to characterize as “odd.” “This ice Blade here was causing some disturbance, says this man here. I was about to go speak with its owner. I don’t suppose you could put in some stern words for me as well?”

“Have you asked this boy or the Blade what the situation was?”

“Nah, well, anyone who’s being accused is going to say they’re innocent, so there isn’t really any point in bothering. Don’t worry; this Blade’ll be restrained. No reason you’ll need to be concerned that it might do something else in the future.”

“But you haven’t asked what they have to say. Surely it couldn’t hurt?” Brighid struggled to keep the irritation from escaping her mouth with her words.

The officer’s smile twisted oddly again. “Come now; you don’t actually think a criminal has something worthwhile to say?”

“Criminal? What sort of disturbance would this be, to make it criminal?”

“You wouldn't want to hear it, I’m sure. Go find some good news.” He left a word behind before marching the Blade and child away: “I’m sure you know Blades aren’t worth a damn if they aren’t obedient.”

 

* * *

 

“Anything amiss?” Mòrag inquired at their next encounter.

“Noth...nothing of note. Your end?”

The Flamebringer shook her head, then turned thoughtful, a pleased expression on her face. Seeing it nearly made Brighid’s eyes water. When Mòrag spoke, Brighid nodded, not hearing the words at all.

“I’ll see you sometime later, then,” she finished. “Good luck with the rest of your tasks today.”

Brighid inclined her head. “...You as well.”


	2. Affinity, Part 1: Losing Control (Chink in the Armor)

“Welcome back, Lady Mòrag.”

Mòrag entered her Blade’s field of vision with a frustrated expression—mild; easy to miss, certainly—but Brighid saw the tightness in her mouth, the occupied gaze of her eyes, the excess stiffness in her posture.

“Thank you, Brighid.”

“Something the matter, my lady?” she inquired.

“Nothing you need to worry about. The meeting went as expected.”

Brighid dipped her head in a nod. “Ah; that is good news, then.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I was planning on using the shower.”

“Of course.”

As professionally as if she stood in front of the Urayan representatives she had spoken with that afternoon, she entered the bathroom. She methodically stripped down, turned the shower on, and stepped inside.

A deep but quiet sigh parted her lips. “ ‘Sir, might you be interested in a churro?’ ” she muttered, replaying the words that were now branded into her memory.

_I am not to be bothered. This is nonsense for a Special Inquisitor._

She turned her gaze upon the mirror on the wall of the shower; it was already specked with droplets of water. Raising her hand toward it, she wiped it clear. “I do not truly look….” _No one could make such a mistake easily...surely._

It did make her wonder, after seeing the Urayans’ lifestyles and attire, what it was like to experience such freedom. Thinking about the restrictions that came with her job rarely appealed to her. The much simpler solution was to compress and store such emotion; she was never given time or means to let it flow out of her, so inside it must remain, secured by her uniform and armor. As if it was a controlled fire within her.

Mòrag let out another sigh, this one of relative relaxation. She sank down to the shower floor, knees to her chin. She secured the water plug to slowly allow the bath to fill.

“I should really learn meditation....” Thinking about nothing was difficult—and taxing. “Or find a wall to talk to.” Mòrag chuckled lightly. “I can only imagine what rumors that would stir up.”

The wall against her back was too comfortable; her position accentuated her grogginess far too much. “Just a little longer….”

 

* * *

 

“Lady Mòrag!”

Brighid’s voice echoed throughout the Inquisitor’s head; then, when repeated, the sound increased in clarity.

“Brighid...where…?”

“Just in bed. Relax.”

“How long…. Did I pass out in the bathroom?”

“It had seemed like you were taking your time.” Brighid, sitting on the edge of the bed, allowed for a half-smile. “Don’t worry. It’s nighttime. You’ve only been out an hour or so.”

Mòrag shifted under the mattress, under a double-layer of sheets. “My clothes…?”

Her Blade averted her head. “I dealt with them for you.”

Understanding the implication, Mòrag hottened. Hopefully she was still overheated from the shower. “You—” She glanced at her sleepwear.

Even with Brighid’s eyes closed, she seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “E...excuse my impudence.”

“No. Think nothing of it. Thank you.”

The Jewel of the Empire shifted her weight, breaking the silence of movement and allowing Mòrag to sit up. “In any case. I do believe I have reason for asking what could put the constantly-vigilant Inquisitor in such a position?”

“It was...nothing. Merely my own negligence.”

“Your last break was just three days ago. Tell me I’m wrong to think that it’s odd that you would fall asleep in a bathtub for ‘no reason.’ ”

Stubbornly, Mòrag switched roles in their eye contact hide-and-seek game. “You hold my abilities in too high esteem.”

Brighid laughed gently. “Maybe so. But not in this case.” She paused. “Statistics are a wonderful thing; I’m sure you know. For any situation, you can cross-reference it with previous events to assess the abnormality of the occurrence. In this case: your fatigue.”

“...You need not worry yourself with trivial matters.”

“The emotional well-being of my Driver is of utmost importance to me, as well as to the Empire. And such security does not come from pretending to be a turtle like that.”

Defeated, Mòrag sighed. “I came across an Urayan shopkeeper on my return to Mor Ardain. She...addressed me the...the wrong way, and I took the implication harder than I—than I logically ought to have.”

“The wrong way, you say…?”

“She called me ‘sir.’ ”

“Ah.” Brighid considered this. “Well, as you must know, the mistake is not so difficult to make.”

“...Yes. I am painfully aware.”

“For my own opinion, I would wager the issue has more to do with your uniform.”

“Yes, I expect that would be a factor.”

Brighid paused. “You seem to misunderstand. When you don’t have to be Special Inquisitor, you’re incredibly womanly.”

“You flatter me. It makes me wish that—that it were believable.”

_Shit stop feeling—_

“My lady?”

The Ardainian abruptly turned away from Brighid’s view, face strategically hidden. “Don’t pay attention to me. The long bath must’ve made me start acting ridiculous.”

“Mòrag….”

At the lack of response, her Blade touched a hand to the back of Mòrag’s neck. “It is difficult to help when you act like this. Please turn around….”

Surprisingly, she did, as if trying to be confrontational. Tears leaked out from her eyes. “Truly, it’s nothing,” she lied yet again. “Please don’t concern y—”

Brighid’s arms wrapped tightly around her, stifling the barrier that she had been attempting to erect with her words.

A choke. A sob. The Special Inquisitor let her head fall so that her neck rested on Brighid’s shoulder; Brighid pulled her in, let her take vestige in her warmth. “It’s going to be just fine,” Brighid said. “You’re perfect. Everything will be all right.”

Her Driver shook, silent but for wracking breaths of air. “This sh...this shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does. And that is perfectly acceptable.”

Mòrag could not respond. Her heart felt as if it was bleeding in her throat.

Brighid understood, nevertheless.


	3. Affinity, Part 1.5: Altruistic Fears (Steering Forwards)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brighid broods about being a Blade and the ephemeral state of her memories, unhappy with who and what she is. Mòrag endeavors to give her consolation, which is slightly ignorant but passionate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this says Part 1.5. Technically it's chronologically third, but I added it on after the original nine, so 1.5 it is.
> 
> You know how Brighid gets so attached to Pyra, particularly after overhearing Pyra’s “everyone would be better off without me” speech? One could argue that’s because Brighid has records of what Mythra was like in the past, but I think there’s more to it—in particular, that she has a personal connection to the sort of depression that Pyra is experiencing throughout much of the story. Therefore, what did I think to do? Give an origin to that empathy. Remembering how she’s sensitive about what she was really like in the past and that she fears to lose the character she originally had, I decided she doubtless had some form of identity crisis during her time with Mòrag which needed fixing, and had similar but less strong feelings that Blades, being potent weapons, should not exist. So here we are.
> 
> Be more awesome today than you already are; it's a lofty goal that you can nevertheless achieve. Enjoy!

Brighid swirled her leg slowly around the pool of water. Steam rose in disparate whiffs, and she waved a hand through it to dissolve it into the air. It was always nice to be in Uraya—an unfortunate preference considering her alignment—yet the atmosphere was but a backdrop to her thoughts, and she otherwise was ruminating too intensely to notice it.

In her other hand rested her diary, heavy atop her palm. Most other days, its presence was reassuring—a reminder that she would not die unknown, a promise that she would retain some of her memories some way. Today, it was simply painful to see.

 _Who was I? Who am I? Who will I become? Does anything stay the same? How much of this is true?_ As short-lasting as the wisps of gas that exuded from the water, confused uncertainties encircled her head, but these were impervious to the force of her hand, unlike the steam.

Her mind turned to the writings about her time five hundred years prior, alongside the Aegis.  _I wonder...does she feel this way, as well?_ She gazed over her body, its not-quite-human components glowing dimly, and sparked a miniscule flame upon her fingers.  _Whose fault is this?_ They were weapons; they—and she more than most—far outclassed nearly all human-made technology. It wasn’t safe for anyone that they existed. It wasn’t safe for anyone that humans had this ability, given the number of times it had been used.

 _But what can be done?_ Certainly she knew her own capabilities were not nearly powerful enough to have any effect on the situation, neither did she want to immerse herself in  international politics any more than mandatory.  _There are only two true ways to have any effect on it…._ Except she did not wish to die, and she did not wish to kill another Blade, either.

_Think of the positives. Even removing just one powerful force from existence could be helpful._

“Lady Brighid? What brings you out this way?”

Mòrag’s footsteps halted behind Brighid’s back, and she turned. “I thought you were attending to something,” Brighid responded. “I came here to...relax for a moment.”

“You brought your diary?”

“Yes. Recording some of the recent events.”

An accordant dip of her head. “With what, exactly?”

“A...pen.”

Mòrag waited—seemingly innocently—for her Blade to show her it. Brighid sighed. “I was thinking.” She brushed her hair aside to be able to face Mòrag. “About how...it might be better if Blades did not exist. For the benefit of humans. Blades are too dangerous. Especially the Aegis. And...me as well.”

“Don’t dare.” The Special Inquisitor swiftly neutralized the distance between herself and her Blade, knelt down, gripped her shoulders, stared fiercely at her until her eyes opened. “You are not better off dead. You are not a menace. You are not useless. You are strong and kind and your judgement rarely shows fault. For anyone such as you—Blade or otherwise—it would be far more loss than gain.”

Brighid turned her head away from her face. “But you cannot deny; as a weapon myself, it seems the best solution to...eradicate anything I can that does not have dire after-effects.”

Momentarily, the Flamebringer halted. “What you are considering...it is not an easy matter to solve. One could argue either that humans ought to be less combative, or that it’s their nature and the threat has to be dealt with. But there are countless dangerous things; Blades are not the most problematic issue. Besides—you underestimate the good that you do in existing.”

“The issue is...I do not know how long it will take for me to leave this world. If ever a dangerous person resonates with my core crystal, things could be different. What atrocities could I commit? How many lives might I take? Would someone dispose of my diary?” She breathed in, held it for a moment, then released—not quite a sigh, but not passive enough to be merely a breath. “Knowing this, future lives are as terrifying for me as death is for you.”

The breeze spiraled around them; trees’ branches bent somewhat from exposure to the east-borne pressure against them. Gradually, Brighid felt it shifting southwards in the flames in her hair. After a moment, she turned her head back to gaze at Mòrag.

“It's kind of you to give me a way to relate, but I cannot truly feel the same as you do when on the external side of the issue. Just—please don’t forget that, for as long as you are alive with me, I’m here, and I can help. I….”

Brighid’s featureless countenance weakened into a smile, raw and bittersweet, her qualms evaporating at Mòrag’s support in the same way the water surrounding her boiled at the touch of her legs, the same way that the mist diffused into oblivion at the motion of her hand.

Mòrag said, “...Excuse me. I didn’t mean to say anything strange...”

“No.” She reached out to brush her Driver’s side, not relinquishing her smile. “I’m glad.”


	4. Affinity, Part 2: Brighid Makes a Discovery (Underlying Fancies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As envoys to Leftheria, Brighid and Mòrag run into an issue nearly identical to Mòrag’s previous trip to Uraya. Upon their return to the palace, Brighid investigates the source of the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now deem Leftheria canonically the second-coldest nation, just because it seems natural, haha. Those tropical-looking plants would actually die in temperatures too high above 40 degrees. Definitely. Not making this up at all. (Also, Brighid is notably more adventurous and spontaneous at times here; I assume she has a good reason for that. Haha.)  
> If you didn’t see the fact that this ol’ thing is a series, well, this is the second part. That means you would be recommended to read the first one (feel free not to of course; I’m not forcing anyone to do anything). That being said, happy reading! And keep being awesome, ‘cause I know you are.

Brighid strolled—as much as it could be called strolling—through the streets of Fonsett Village, in step with her Driver. She had expected the town to be fairly isolated, but the lack of outside influence surprised her nevertheless. It had the feeling of a small cottage on a vivid bed of grass, a clearing deep in the woods—the sort she had read of, but couldn’t remember having ever seen before.

On her right, an accessory vendor caught her attention.  _ What must they sell here? _ She considered.  _ I can’t imagine it could be similar to anywhere else, except Gormott, possibly…. _

“Interested?” the woman asked the pair. “We don’t have the best materials, but it would be hard to find somewhere more unique!”

Mòrag nodded, perusing the collection. Following her eyes, the woman smiled. “Ah, yes. One of my favorites.” She picked up a ring; it showcased an enchanting emerald crystal with a sky-blue swirl—Brighid had never seen anything quite like it among the many dozens of crystals she could recognize. “The stories I’m told when salvagers sell them to me...it makes me sort of want to go on a real adventure of my own.”

“Well,” Brighid responded, “Alrest does have its fair share of adventures. Although...I would be quite content staying here. The view is certainly quaint.”

Mòrag nodded in assent. 

“Well, I guess it’s not for me, then. I’ve barely been here a week and it’s already beginning to feel cramped.” The vendor stretched her arms.

The Flamebringer redirected the conversation. “So, what does the gem do?—I assume it has some practical purpose, though I could be wrong.”

“It has a calming shine, especially at night,” she told her. “Most creatures will have a hard time trying to anger the wearer. A pair would make a fair set of wedding rings, I would bet….” The vendor smiled meaningfully at Brighid.

“Oh—no—you misunderstand—Brighid is my Blade,” Mòrag said briskly.

“I’m certain she would still appreciate a gift from the man she’s attached to. Literally attached to, as it were.” Her smile shifted to Mòrag.

“Tempting,” Mòrag stated, and only Brighid could make out the sarcasm. “I’ll—just take one, though, if you please.”

“Anything you like. Three hundred ten G, please.” The money and ring were exchanged. “Have a great day!”

“You as well,” Mòrag responded, businesslike.

After spacing themselves far enough away from anyone who might overhear, Brighid said, “Forgive my lack of considerateness, but you didn’t flinch when the men at the port made that same mistake.”

“I did not flinch.”

“Well, whatever you would call a slight jerk of your head away from another person, you reacted more strongly this time.”

“Pardon, but I don’t see the question.”

“What was different this time?”

Mòrag slowed to a stop. “I could list the differences, but there are many that could account for an asymmetric response. The lack of time I have to think about myself—not that I would be found complaining, mind—makes doesn’t help to pinpoint an answer for why I do any of the things that I do.”

“Yes; I do suppose that would make things a little trickier.” Brighid thought about it for a minute. “Well, let us go talk to the town’s...leader, I suppose. We can return to this after we’re done with our task.”

The Special Inquisitor nodded.

 

* * *

 

Mòrag opened the door to their quarters in the palace, ushering Brighid in before her. The familiar atmosphere that they called home wafted into their heads.

“I must admit, Leftheria is a very appealing place,” Brighid remarked, taking a seat on her bed. “Reminds a person of an uncolonized tropical island. Or islands, I suppose.” 

“To me, it seemed a little low in temperature to be a tropical region, but yes; I must agree with you.”

Brighid smiled faintly. “Too chilly for the Flamebringer? Rather ironic, wouldn’t you say?”

Organizing the papers on her desk, Mòrag replied, “Yes, well, it is you that the title describes more accurately, after all….”

“You know, you could have asked.”

“Pardon?”

“If you needed warmth. All you have to do is say so. I assure you; my heat is more than enough to satisfy a chill.”

“That’s—of course—I would never doubt your capabilities,” Mòrag said.

“I’m flattered. Do you need any assistance heating up still?”

In response, Mòrag slightly shook her head.”I should be able to recover on my own.”

Her Blade laughed. “ ‘Recover’? You make it sound like an injury. Here.” She wrapped her arms around Mòrag’s waist, pressing her front against Mòrag’s back. Heat began to flow, and Brighid channeled it through her, diffusing into her Driver’s clothes and skin and permeating the nearby air.

“Brighid—thank you—but—I feel as if this might be—mildly distracting—” she said.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Brighid observed. “It’s doing all it can to keep your temperature up, I presume.”

“I...need to work.”

“It’s evening. If anything, you need food. Five minutes away from your paperwork would do you good.” Brighid lifted a hand up to feel Mòrag’s face. “My lady, I’m surprised. I never knew you had such a hot head.”

Mòrag’s strategic silence sent the Jewel of the Empire into more amused chuckling.

“You sound like a child when you laugh,” Mòrag said, obviously grasping for a comeback.

“I suppose I do,” she answered, still smiling. “But you look like one when you blush like that.”

“I’m not—” the Special Inquisitor objected. “What are you talking about?”

Brighid composed herself. “Nothing. How about we get that bite to eat I mentioned?”


	5. Affinity, Part 3: A Weakness of the Mind (Lessons in Peace)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per a request by the king of Tantal, Mòrag and Brighid journey to the Sanguinous Grotto to deal with a buloofo that’s been wounding miners and explorers before another expedition is sent out. Mòrag understands the difference between a Special Inquisitor and a warrior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could technically be considered “fluff” for character development; it doesn’t directly affect the arc that I’m planning. However, it combines a visit to Genbu, feelings of guilt, and an excuse to put Perceval in the story, so I think it warrants a place here.
> 
> Anyway, this is the third chapter of this series. It stands alone just fine, but it’s meant to be part of a larger whole. Enjoy, and don’t ever stop being awesome—your part in this world is very much deserved.

*(This is the third part of this series. [Click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184147) to access the first part.)*

 

“It’s farther away than I expected,” Brighid said.

“Well, it is true that we don’t often personally make these sorts of journeys,” Mòrag said. “Tantal is rather difficult to navigate easily with Titan ships.”

The Special Inquisitor surveyed the terrain ahead as they jogged north. “According to his request, the buloofo should be only a little way north of here.”

“We’ll get there when we do. Eulogeminos was kind enough to refrain from giving us a time limit, after all.”

Laughing a little, Mòrag answered, “You must have confidence in your abilities. I remember his specific instructions not to take longer than twelve hours, since that was when the mining expedition was supposed to get there.” Her running pace tapered somewhat.

“Twelve hours, though...that’s hardly a limit that bears considering.”

A few meters behind them, a sampling of snow fell over Perceval’s head. He extinguished it without changing pace.

“Fair enough.”

A number of minutes later, they reached the entrance to the cave. Icicles dangled above, seemingly far too long to still be secured to the ceiling. “Brighid?” Mòrag said.

On cue, Brighid engulfed the near stalactites in flame, dispersing them almost immediately into vapor. Steam whirled around into nothingness.

“Thank you.” The trio progressed inside.

Each noise echoed through the cavern. Brighid’s natural light reflected upon the surrounding ice, but still, an instantaneous shaking in the ground startled them. The buloofo stood tall, arched and enraged, evidently roused by their unsubtle entrance.

“Prepare yourself.” Mòrag drew her Blade’s whipswords. “Perceval, find any other enemies in the vicinity.” But, naturally, Perceval was already on his way.

The buloofo charged. Unknowing of its foe’s agility, it skidded on the ground to turn towards the space that the Flamebringer had dodged out of. She lashed out, driving the beast rightwards with one strike and slapping downwards onto its skull with the other. “To you, Brighid!” She tossed her left-hand weapon to her partner.

“Lady Mòrag, I have ret—”

Perceval abruptly ceased speaking as he saw Brighid’s flames engulf the buloofo and the vang he had aggravated. They screeched in irritation, and Mòrag nodded at the assassin. “Subdue the tyrant with Brighid; I will deal with the vang. On my word, switch targets again!”

“On—” Perceval watched as Mòrag moved to action, then grunted and followed the instruction. Turning her attention quickly to the aerial targets, Mòrag snapped her whip across their ranks, successfully confusing at least two of them. She danced out of range of the swooping bites of the remaining four enemies, and then let loose a burst of flame from her sword to sear the wings of the mob. One dodged; she spun to stab it, and—

“Time to switch!” Perceval commanded, dealing finishing blow to the confused vang.

“Wha—Perceval, I said—”

Unable to change targets in time, she could only turn her head to catch the incoming forehead of a flaming buloofo, which caught her ribs in the side and knocked her backwards into the snow and ice.

Swiftly, Perceval finished the mob to turn to Mòrag’s assailant, while Brighid hastened to her side. “Begone!” Brighid said, launching a spurt of flame into its side.

“For your crimes against the populace of Genbu,” Perceval declared, “as well as against my Driver...you shall be sentenced to death.” His katana crashed down upon the beast’s body, sending it careening into a stalagmite across the cave. “Lady Mòrag, are you unhurt?”

The Flamebringer coughed. “Next time, please wait for my orders and do not create your own. But yes; I am alive.”

“Of course. Excuse my lack of communication. I merely intended to optimize the time of attack.”

“Whatever the reason, speak before you act when possible. At least tell Mòrag the important things so that she can better predict your actions. Let me inspect the damage, my lady.” Without waiting for him to respond, Brighid opened Mòrag’s coat and felt around.

Suddenly anxious, Mòrag shifted her weight. “Do not worry about me, Brighid—”

“Nonsense. It would be helpful for me to know your wounds for any battles in the near future.” Her hands explored the Inquisitor’s torso until she found the bruise, at which point Mòrag made an unintelligible noise of pain. “Mm. I see.”

“Could...could you not have asked me where instead?”

“It lets me understand better this way. Now, mind setting a course for Theosoir? I’m rather interested in getting a bite to eat.”

“You should have said so earlier. I have some crab sticks and a mille-feuille in my pouch. Here.” She reached into her bag, finding that by some miracle the mille-feuille had not been even slightly mutilated by their travels. Perhaps it had been too cold to be squashed.

Brighid shook her head. “I wouldn't want to delay the journey. You must be chilly as things are.”

“Do not worry about me; a coat and your flames are enough for me to survive just fine.” She steadied her shivering arms stubbornly. “Eat.”

“...Thank you, my lady.”

“Think nothing of it. Perceval?” As she looked up, the Inquisitor noted the baby buloofo he held under one arm.

“I am fine; thank you.” His gaze followed hers. “I found it. Should I dispose of it?”

“No need. It must have a mother returning eventually.” Her heart sagged when she eyed the male buloofo lying against the far wall, and she averted her eyes. “Eulogeminos requested we bring its body to the city.”

“Yes,” Brighid said, after swallowing a bite. “And?”

“I told myself we would deal with that step when we got here, but...I do not feel prepared to carry it back.” She watched the young buloofo inspect what may have been its father for a moment, stubbornly masking her guilt.

“Ah.” Brighid stepped closer. “Well...I don’t suppose we could apologize for how it was feasted on by the nearby volff before we could prevent it?”

“But that ne….” Mòrag’s voice trailed off. “I don’t know if I would be comfortable doing that.”

Brighid watched the smaller buloofo, then gave Mòrag a meaningful glance.

“Thank you,” Mòrag eventually said.

“My lady? I have found more of them.” Perceval returned into view with a half-dozen more animals, evidently driven forward out of fear.

“Leave them be, Perceval; please.”

 


	6. Affinity, Part 4: The Most Perfect Union (Orientation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brighid and Mòrag attend a banquet at the palace for Mor Ardain and Gormott officials to celebrate the annexation of Gormott. Brighid confirms her own suspicions about her Driver and manages to show them to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not dissimilar to another fanfiction I read here on AO3 (check out StevetheIceCube if you want to find it); I tried my best to make it different but I couldn’t think of an ingenious plan to do that, whoops. I also searched the game and wiki thoroughly for people in the Ardainian and Gormotti government system! Yay! (Please don’t make me think about politics any more.) That means some lines for both Dughall and Roderich, the two most irritating subordinates ever, which is also fun. (Check out Dughall’s tie; if you remember a scene from Chapter 2, then this is a little homage to that color.) As for the duo itself, you get to enjoy some investigation by Brighid. See where that goes….
> 
> So yes. Part four. Read the previous ones first if you want to get the “full experience,” haha. Enjoy, and retain your awesomeness until the end of time.

“It is rather amusing,” Mòrag remarked, a half-hour before the evening’s festivities were to commence. She was preparing with Brighid in their room, though in truth the Flamebringer was doing very little. “We have essentially no need to dress up for the occasion, what with my uniform and your dress.”

“There would have been no reason for you not to wear something different tonight,” Brighid responded. “You only need to wear the Inquisitor’s uniform when on official business.”

“What is more official than a meeting of officials over supper? Besides, it is far too late to only now suggest I add something of that sort to my wardrobe.”

Brighid could not suppress a wry smile. “My, Mòrag; what an uncharacteristic reason for refusing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sat down at her desk, arranging the papers that never seemed to dissipate. “There is still time before we must go; let me work until then.”

There was nothing Brighid could say, so she dipped her head and left her Driver’s bedroom. A strange sense of anticipation gripped her.  _ Less than an hour from now, she could understand. _ The sudden, real understanding of the possibilities swirled through her mind, a tornado incited at the strike of a bolt of lightning. She sat down and opened her journal.

_ It now approaches time to go to the banquet. My feelings are oddly but clearly provoking anxiety. Whether I will attempt to explain to Mòrag what has been bothering her, I still do not know, but surely it could not hurt? This is an unusual and difficult burden, to have to tell a person something that they should already know, when I am afraid to give myself hope in doing so. It is already hard enough to describe on paper; aloud, I do not know what success I will have. _

“Excuse me, Lady Brighid?”

The Jewel of Mor Ardain jumped slightly in her chair. “Praxis? Yes; what is it?”

“Perceval’s gone again. Should I go find him?”

She sighed. “Yes; if you don’t mind, that would be very helpful. I wish he would learn to be less independent.”

“Oh, you know how some people are. A free spirit’s good medicine, I say—especially for Mòrag—but communication is important too. I guess you sorta know that already, though, huh. All right then; I’m off.” She lowered her volume. “Have fun on your dinner date!”

Praxis waved and hurried off.

“It’s not a date, Praxis....” muttered Brighid. “Don’t tease me.”

 

* * *

 

Footsteps in sync, the pair entered the ballroom. Despite its name, it tended to receive more use as a large dining hall, majorly due to its proximity to the kitchens. “I must commend the designers; they did very finely,” the Special Inquisitor said.

“I personally agree,” said Brighid, “but I expect there are those who are much more interested in the food than in the decor.”

Mòrag gave Brighid a secret smile. “Naturally.”

As other political figures entered, Blade and Driver both stood off to the side—close enough to look approachable, but not too close as to garner unwanted attention. Such was Mòrag’s preference, Brighid knew; and this way, she thought, she was closer to her than anyone else was.

“Ah! Lady Mòrag! Lady Brighid! What a treat to see the both of you here today!”

“Welcome, Dughall,” Mòrag responded, her dry tone masked only by her formality. She avoided viewing his face by observing the top of his emerald tie.

“I do hope your commitments are going along profitably,” he stated—recited, Brighid guess, based on the tone.

“I am doing quite fine, thank you. And to you as well.”

The envoy dipped his head, then pulled himself out of the conversation. Mòrag’s focus quickly left him, flickering across the faces of the officials and their families.

Brighid decided to test her Driver. “Who was that, again? You’ve been looking at him for quite a while.” This was a lie; she knew it was not true.

“Who again, pardon?”

She grabbed the Flamebringer’s hand, which stiffened at her touch. She pointed it inconspicuously: “There; in front of Senator Roderich.”

“Ah. That’s...the Gormotti Chief, Edgar. To be honest, I’m glad he’s here; someone to counterbalance the...less admirable characters in the room.”

_ Unsolicited praise. Her guard’s not up. _ Brighid nodded the topic away. “How about that young lady behind him?”

“His daughter, I assume.”

“She seems on the whole a gracious personage.”

“What makes you say that?” Her eyes trailed around the room.

“Her posture, mostly. The Chief seems to have brought her up well. See?”

The Special Inquisitor glanced at the young woman quickly. “Mm.”

“Thought I doubt, on account of her dress, that she is of an overly modest sort….”

Silently, her Driver waited for another sentence, letting their conversation fizzle. To herself, Brighid smiled.

Eventually, with everyone accounted for, they were urged to sit; there was an immense combined table on the right-hand side of the room, adorned with various platters and containers which preserved the recently-prepared cuisine. After a speech by Emperor Niall, the toast “To the safety and longevity of Gormott” signaled the start to the eating portion of the congregation.

“Say, Inquisitor….” Next to her, Senator Roderich tilted his head her way. “Tantal’s got a prince, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Prince Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, if I remember correctly.”

“Mm. What would you say to proposing an alliance with their country, eh?”  
“I would rather not tangle myself in alliances, personally, but I would support a union between our countries all the same. That being said, they are very much isolationists, and I believe they would be highly unlikely to engage in international politics at this time.”

“Well...it would start the relationship off with a bang, so to speak, if we were to provide them with a prospective queen. And may I personally say, your position would befit such action quite well.” He grinned. “It would certainly give us an edge in the issues concerning Uraya.”

More than anything, the Flamebringer simply looked baffled. “No, I...don’t believe Tantal would take particularly kindly to an heir outside the country….”

“Well. Think about it. Just look at the benefits. If the king accepted it….”

“Forgive me,” Brighid intruded, not particularly caring for forgiveness, “but I do not believe that Lady Mòrag would wish to enter such a relationship merely on the basis of political advantages. Besides, discussing such matters now is hardly timely.”

The senator’s face fell slowly. “Of course.” He returned to his meal.

 

* * *

 

_ It appears I do not have the determination I had thought I possessed, _ wrote Brighid in her diary.  _ Despite wanting to, I was unable— _

“Excuse me. Am I interrupting you, Brighid?”

She recognized her Driver’s voice. “No; come on in.” With care and speed, she shut her journal, then turned in her chair to face Mòrag.

“I was meaning to ask; how has sharing a room with Praxis worked out? Nothing too problematic I hope.”

“Not to worry. She’s a perfectly fine roommate. Perceval’s constant passings are the only thing close to a bother.”

“Hm. That’s good.”

Silence ensued.

“You’re making that face again.”

“Pardon?”

“If there’s something bothering you, I would be open to listening.”

Mòrag nodded, almost to herself. “...Senator Roderich...suggested I marry the prince of Tantal.”

“Yes. I remember.”  _ Is this heading where it sounds like it is? _

“I...I’ve been thinking about it. For some reason, it just...bothers me. More than it ought to.”

“Do you...know why?”

“That’s the issue. It makes no sense to me, but for some reason….” She sighed.

Brighid rested her chin on the back of the chair, kneeling on the seat. “Well, do you have any interest in marriage?”

“...I don’t know. Every time I try to picture myself in that position, it…doesn’t fit.”

“Sometimes you need to…” _ choose your words carefully, Brighid,  _ she told herself, “...explore a little.” She paused. “You don’t see that in the Tantalese prince? What of, say, Chief Edgar?”

“I have considered that, but….”

“That man we met on the street a few days ago? The one who played that violin?”

“It just doesn’t—”

“Dughall?”

Mòrag apparently couldn’t help spontaneously bursting out in laughter—at least, bursting out in a relative sense. It sounded pretty. “No.”

“Then, that young woman, Edgar’s daughter, you said?”

“Well—I hardly know her—I’m sure she—”

“Then how about this—and forgive me for interrupting again—”

“It’s fine.”

“—if you think back to the illustrated stories of Addam, who’s more attractive? The hero himself? Or the Aegis?”

The Flamebringer stood extremely still. “Perhaps this was...wrong to bring up. I—”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Brighid told her quietly, and stood. An arm extended of its own free will; a hand wrapped itself lightly around Mòrag’s forearm. Her violet eyes opened, gazing at the Inquisitor with a serious but kind expression. “It’s not shameful. I’m glad you know now. I hated to see you so bothered lately.” In a moment, she regained control of herself, and slowly let go. “You can get some sleep if you like; I need to finish something. Have a good sleep.”

“...All right. You too, Brighid.” She left the room, already taking off her hat. Her feet stopped at the doorway. “...Thank you.”

Brighid nodded in response. “Always welcome, Mòrag.”


	7. Affinity, Part 5: Not Merely a Blade (Reason Enough to Appreciate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag and Brighid escort Praxis to what may become a final face-off against the remaining core crystal hunter and his Blade, Theory. At the same time as Theory battles with her feelings, Mòrag attempts to show the hunter his utter lack of morality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is an alternate universe. This is a slight tweak on the end of the quest “Blade-Sharp Memory.” It includes story spoilers for Theory and Praxis, so, um, keep that in mind. It also straight-out copies some of the dialogue, so don’t be surprised if some looks familiar. I tried to make it interesting, though.
> 
> Installment number five. It’s more of a character-development thing than a plot-development thing; the reason it exists is to expand on Mòrag’s strong side which I haven’t included much of previously. Enjoy! And don’t forget how much more amazing the world is with you in it; the factor is larger than you think.

“...Even after I took you to places we’ve been before...none of it jogged your memory. It’s like you’re a blank slate.”

“You seem pretty invested in restoring my memories, huh,” Praxis said. “But..why would you go this far?”

Theory looked down. “I just...wanted us to be together again. As a team. But—but back in Mor Ardain, I realized that was impossible. This is my last resort.”

Footsteps from Mòrag’s left alerted her to an Urayan man. “Well played. Looks like you’re gettin’ your wish, after all.”

“It’s you,” Mòrag said.

“Been awhile. Glad to see you remember me. I’m the only one left who’s free, you know—not a day’s gone by that I don’t think about you, Special Inquisitor.” He nearly spat the title in distaste. “Look at what you’ve done to my Theory. She’s nothing but a coward now. Nothing without that Praxis. So...you’ll have to hand her over.”

“Apologies. It is my duty to apprehend criminals, not to submit to them.”

“And there’s no way I’d side with thugs like you,” Praxis said.

“Ohh, now, that’s not a very nice name for your old pal.”

“I couldn’t blame anyone for acting like that when they’re stuck with you!”

The hunter ignored the insult. “You see what’s become of her, Theory. She’s broken. D’you just want to leave her like that?”

“...Of course not.”

Brighid stepped forward. “This sounds like brainwashing. What have you done?”

“I only told her the truth; no need for accusations, ‘my lady.’ If she wants Praxis back...she’ll just have to kill all of you, and let me reawaken her!” The Driver pointed a command, and Theory attacked. Ice streaked towards the Flamebringer, and she sidestepped. A jagged line of blue from Brighid connected with the remnants on the craggy ground, melting it immediately. Praxis took control of the water and turned it at the Driver.

“That doesn’t sound fair,” Mòrag said.

“What’s not fair about it? Ownership falls to the strong. Or do you think you deserve everything, just because you’re the rich and mighty Special Inquisitor?”

“It’s not about ownership. It’s about abuse.” She fended off an attack from Theory by pushing off from the ground where she stood with the aid of her whipswords. “But I shouldn’t have to explain.”

“Whatever your reason, you can’t win with mere words—which is too bad, since you don’t have the heart to kill, do you?” The Urayan flashed a grin at her expense. “I can. And that’s why you’ll lose!”

Theory’s katana flickered in a moment of incredible prestidigitation. The sun above caught in Praxis’s eyes; she squinted blindly, disoriented; Mòrag threw herself towards her Blade’s attacker, between Theory’s sword and Praxis’s body. Just before Theory’s expression changed into fear, she made involuntary contact with Mòrag and the two struck the ground forcefully.

“My lady!” Brighid called out.

She could feel the blood seeping from her leg; the pain was amplified by hitting the uneven ground. Instinctively, she threw the ice Blade off her, and rolled backwards into a kneel. Her leg almost pulled her back down, but she clenched her teeth and held the position. “I’ll live. Take this.” She tossed Brighid her second whipsword.

“You really are too much of an idiot,” the core crystal hunter chuckled. “You die, your Blade dies. But if the Blade dies? You live. It’s obvious, really. Puttin’ your Blade on the front lines is the best strategy to live and win. Taking a hit for your own weapon? How lame is that?”

“Still?...No. I’m not surprised. Let’s set you right. What irritates me is not that you won’t give me Theory. That was not my goal, and to be perfectly honest, the issue does not concern me. What does irritate me? The way you’re using her, yet acknowledging that she has emotions. While I may be of no consequence to this dilemma, I will not stand for such behavior.”

He shook his head. “You’re right about one thing—you don’t matter at all in this battle. Nor anywhere else, soon. Don’t let up, Theory!”

Despite her wounds, Mòrag was able to keep the battle at a stalemate. Her pain nerves screamed at her to leave the battle to Praxis and Brighid, but she was stubborn.  _ No. I shall not win the way he does. _ She blocked a strike from Theory and wrapped her whip around the katana, attempting to slam it—and with it, her aggressor—into the ground, but Theory’s reflexes pulled her into a standing position, and the Inquisitor released Theory’s weapon in fear of losing her own.

“Theory! Focus on the battle! What’re you doing?!”

“Please—we don’t have any reason to do this,” Praxis said. “I’m sorry I don’t remember—for you and for me. All I know is how important I am to you. So, please….”

“Don’t listen to her! She’ll never be free if you don’t kill her! Just finish the job!”

The words seemed to encircle Theory, swirling as if vultures. Mòrag looked to Brighid, who shook her head softly.  _ Don’t say anything. See if they can solve this themselves. _

“...No…” Theory mumbled. She dropped her stance, momentarily sheathing her weapon.

“What? Aren’t you listening? The only way you can get Praxis back is by killing them! What do you mean, no?!”

“I can’t do it.” Her voice was building resolve. “I...don't want her to forget again.”

“Useless idiot!” the Driver growled. “Forget it! I’ll do it myself!” He lunged forward with his own weapon.

“Stop!” In one fluid motion, Theory unsheathed her katana, dashed towards the core crystal hunter, and shoved the blade into his side. He roared in primal agony and fell to the ground.

“You backstabbing...traitor…” he groaned. “You don’t understand a thing….”

“Theory!” Praxis, recovering from shock paralysis, rushed to her partner’s side. “Theory! Why would you do that? I didn’t want you to die!”

“I...didn’t want you to die, either…” Theory returned. “Promise me you won’t forget….”

“I’ll never forget! I’ll write it all down! I’ll—I’ll—”

Theory smiled—the first time Mòrag had seen it. “I’m so glad...we’re both finally free….” She lifted a hand, to touch Praxis’s face with, likely, but it dissolved before her eyes. The ice Blade’s expression became tainted with sadness. One tear fell before nothing was left but a dark core.

“No...no, no, no no no...it’s not fair….” Praxis’s tears clung to her face in an effort to convince her that she hadn’t just seen anything, gripping her cheeks before being pulled off by gravity.

Mòrag stepped towards her Blade—her companion. A gloved hand rested softly on Praxis’s shoulder. “I’ll leave her to you,” she said. “It should be your decision what to do with her core.”

In Praxis’s hand, it was ice cold. “I want to see her again. I want to tell her about everything she did. She...deserves more happiness.”

“If you wish, I can reawaken her eventually. Until then...it would only be right for you to hold on to her. After I report the hunter’s death to the camp near here, we should return to the palace. All right?”

Praxis nodded. “Thank you.”

“You never cease to amaze me, my lady,” Brighid admired.

“All I’m doing is what seems to be right. I suppose I’m fortunate to be make so many good choices.”

“I think it’s just your nature.” Brighid prodded Mòrag forward. “Lead the way.”


	8. Affinity, Part 6: High, but Not Above (Unplanned Excursion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Directly after Rex’s party escapes in Chapter 2, in place of the cutscene that plays after it) Emperor Niall gives the Special Inquisitor and her Blade the following day off. Though Mòrag is habitually irritated at first, Brighid convinces her Driver to be selfish for once in her life and enjoy the time off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to get the Ardainian soldiers in here somewhere, so here they are, haha. Also, obligatory visit to Gormott because it’s great there. Also also, I wish you could climb up to the Gormotti Titan’s head. That would be so amazing. Also also also, I get an excuse to describe casual-outfit-Mòrag. I’m sure we’d all pay good money to get an outfit for Mòrag in-game that’s identical to Brighid’s dress. (Actually, just swap every character’s outfits. That would be perfect.)
> 
> So, this is number six (that means read numbers 1-5 first). It’s mostly a way to develop the relationship between the two of them, and it’s getting close to the climactic portion of the arc. It’s also at the point where the main XC2 storyline will cross with this timeline, so that means I might be able to play the other characters off of each other soon. Which’ll be fun.  
> Enough monologuing, anyway. You probably came for the story. I don’t blame you; that’s why it’s on the site. Enjoy! And I will never run out of ways to say how amazing you are because there’s an infinite amount of things to compliment.

“If this happens every time I leave your side, I think we’d better travel together from now on.” Brighid flared to dry herself off.

Mòrag wiped off her coat as best she could. “Consider me thoroughly embarrassed.” She attempted to look professional, but the sight only managed to make Brighid laugh.

“Excuse me. I did already state my shame. Is that not enough.”

“It is. But your face combined with that outfit is rather overpowering. You wear water very well, you know.”

Half-amused, she let out a wry smile. “A back-handed compliment if I ever heard one.” Behind them, Ardainian soldiers rushed forward. “Perhaps we have some explaining to do.”

“Lady Mòrag! Lady Brighid! Are you all right?!”

“We’re fine, thank you. The Aegis and her Driver have escaped, though,” Brighid stated. “The only remaining issue we can address right now is that of the water tower.”

“Posthaste, Lady Brighid.”

“Don’t forget me! Lady Mòrag!” a voice called out from the squadron. “Lady Brighid! Don’t forget—”

“You’re done with that now. Back to your post, soldier.”

The voices faded into nothingness.

“Well. I suppose...it’s time for us to contact Chief Edgar and see what can be done about...that.”

“And what of our course of action surrounding the Aegis?”

Mòrag stopped to consider. “If...if she is traveling with that boy, perhaps it would not hurt to let them roam free for the moment.”

“Hm. What makes you say that?”

“He...seemed safe—safer than many others—to wield the Aegis’s power. For now. Did you notice him avoid hitting me before escaping? I don’t feel that was a coincidence.”

Brighid nodded. “As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

“I cannot believe that the Emperor chose to give me the day off,” Mòrag said, irritated. “With all the issues at hand now, a day without progress will stall things even more than the current rate.”

“You’re exaggerating, my lady. Currently the only major undertakings are repairing the water tower—which you now have done all you can for—and the excavation in Temperantia. Better now than a day or two ago, I would say.” Brighid smiled. “Why don’t we take this opportunity to cross off something on your to-be-done-before-dying list? You do have one, I would hope?”

“But—”

“If you don’t have anything, I certainly could choose something.”

“...Not any formal list, but....there are somethings I hope to do.”

“Well, let’s see about getting something done. What do you think?”

 

* * *

 

 About an hour later, the duo stood near Nocclia Timber Site, looking upwards at the Gormotti Titan’s head, neck, and back. Their preparations from the room in the Titan Battleship—which had included lunch, a change of clothes, and a bag of supplies—seemed far away to Brighid while she absorbed the size of the colossus on which they stood.

“I’m surprised. It looks much larger from this angle.” Brighid turned to Mòrag. “After you.”

She nodded, then faced the sloping terrain. At first, the steps were tricky, but eventually the crags became softer, the dirt blossomed with green, and plant life sprouted from the soil and tree roots. An invigorating wind blew past and around them; the trees rustled as they passed. Ascending higher, ledges and small caves revealed themselves—the pair briefly decided to explore some of these—and Torigoth became more and more miniscule.

“You haven’t turned around for a while now,” Brighid said.

“I want to wait,” the Flamebringer answered. “If I keep looking down, it would hardly be as breathtaking at the top. Incidentally, I’ve noticed you have refrained similarly. Would your reasoning be similar?”

“Yes...more or less.” In fact, she was trying to avoid noticing the distance between her elevation and flat ground. _We’re fortunate not to be on a cliff, at least._

Continuing, they worked upwards, finally reaching the top of Gormott’s right shoulder. Between its shoulder blades rested a house-sizes clearing of flat ground.

“Need assistance being surprised?” Brighid offered.

“Hmh. As long as you’re offering; thank you.”

Brighid placed a hand over her Driver’s eyes, careful to negate her flames, and guided her towards a safe viewing site. “There. Hands being removed.”

As she exposed Mòrag’s eyesight to the view, Brighid turned to absorb it personally. The afternoon sunlight gleamed as it reflected off Coolley Lake and Lyta Oasis; Torigoth’s bustling market seemed to be fixed in time but for the windmill; countless rocky outcroppings, trees, and massive animal life struck a contrast with the delighted hearty green of the plains; the mild breeze circulated the scent of fresh air even at their high altitude.

“It’s...beautiful.”

“Yes.”

Brighid glanced at Mòrag. As if it weighed as little as the leaves, the Flamebringer’s dark hair floated behind her at the whims of the wind. Her light brown coat also flitted from side to side, whereas her pants clung tight to her legs—long and slender, far more feminine than her uniform presented. Brighid was unable to avert a mild blush.

 _Control yourself_ , she chided.

“I...somehow don’t want to return now,” Mòrag said, disrupting Brighid’s thoughts.

“I feel the same way, although maybe due to other causes.”

Mòrag turned her head. “Which would be?”

“Ah. I…. Just the realization of being so far from the ground is...a bit...unnerving. If you brought me to an outcropping at this level, anxiety might start to set in.”

A nod. “Duly noted. What a surprise to find something that makes you queasy. I must admit; this is a treat.”

“Try not to get used to it.” Keeping the smile out of her voice was impossible.

Her companion lay down on her back, facing the sky. “From this view...it doesn’t look that much different than down in Torigoth.”

In response, Brighid turned her eyes upwards. “Yes, I suppose so. Nothing above us, though.”

“That is true.”

Another minute of silence.

“I’m glad.”

“My lady?”

“Being able to do something like this...it’s nice, after having gotten past my qualms. Lying here, feeling this way, it gives me motivation. To...secure Alrest’s future so that everyone has the ability to do these things, feel this way. For myself, as well.”

Brighid noticed that she was on the ground next to her Driver. _When did I…_. She stopped; it didn’t particularly matter. “Still an upstanding citizen, I see.”

“Call it a dream. As soon as I see an untainted smile on every person that I meet...my purposes will be completed.”

Her Blade smiled to herself. “Well, let it be known that I will stand by you in your efforts.”


	9. Affinity, Part 7: Mounting Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag and Brighid both grapple with their feelings; companions unintentionally aid them in processing their desires. While Mòrag spends some time on a balcony at the palace, Brighid later takes a trip to Torigoth Market to consider things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the kind of setup that I love, to be honest. With two characters who have feelings for each other, but neither feels comfortable saying anything...it’s just so sweet. It also relates to me a bit since this is what I pretend is the case whenever I’m faced with seemingly unrequited love. ‘Cause doing nothing is so easy; change is hard and scary sometimes.  
> For some reason, I keep including rare Blades in these chapters; I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve always liked having lots of characters around; maybe that’s it. The second half—with Brighid—is simultaneously serving its showing-Brighid’s-feelings-for-Mòrag purpose and making a long-winded joke about Floren, which is fun. It plays out a little like Floren’s Beguiling Charms dialogues.
> 
> So. We’re getting close to the climactic piece of this. I’m excited to write it. Enjoy. And of course, keep on being you because that’s all it takes to be awesome.

“Oh, hey, Mòrag, d’you think you could let me snoop around the—wait, what are you doing out here?”

The Special Inquisitor quickly stood, having been sitting on the edge of a secluded balcony at the palace. “Oh—excuse me, Newt—do as you wish.”

“Sweet!—erm, I mean, what the heck, Mòrag? I didn’t even tell you what I wanted to do”

“Ah. Well. What was your request?”

Newt nearly responded, but contained herself. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, since when do you answer me with an unconditional yes? Is there something going on in Politics World that you’re thinking about?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing that you need to concern yourself with. So, your question?”

“Nope. You’ve got me interested now. Tell me; what makes the Flamebringer tick tonight?”

“Don’t worry yourself about me. Truly.”

Brain churning, Newt produced a reply. “What were you doing today with Brighid?”

  
“That’s a—strange change in topic.” Mòrag paused, waiting for her Blade to answer. She didn’t. “It was just like every other day.” Yet, suddenly, the Inquisitor was unable to make eye contact.

Newt inspected her. “Damn. Praxis might’ve been right. Tell me your thoughts about seeing Brighid naked, Special Inquisitor.”

“What—why would you—what sort of question is that?”

“Picture it. The lights are off, leaving her own blue glow to illuminate her body, a glow that reflects off her violet eyes, her smooth breasts, her curvaceous figure as she now—”

“Enough, Newt!” Amusingly, the Flamebringer’s face was a deep and overwhelmed crimson. “Sp-speaking about her like—like that—you….”

The waver of Newt’s quiet laugh broke Mòrag’s concentration. “I’m sorry; I was being inappropriate. But it sure did take you long enough to make me stop. So. Blunt test number two. Do you like her?”

“...Naturally. We have spent much time together.”

“Yeah. Obviously. But do you like her romantically? Sexually?”

“Newt, discussing these things in such a straightforward manner—”

“—Is exactly what I need to do to get an answer out of you. I don’t just understand ships and weapons, you know. The brain has all sorts of intricate pieces. They aren’t  _ that _ different.” Seeing her Driver’s conflicted expression, she took pity on her. “Okay. I’ll guess. You’re madly in love with her. Tell me ‘no’ if I’m wrong.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say—”

“Cool. That’s a yes, give or take my adverb. Excuse my rudeness, by the way. So. What’s holding you back?”

Obviously flustered, Mòrag needed a moment to regain her Inquisitorial composure. “...Fear. Insecurity. Not knowing what would happen if I asked; not wanting to face failure.”

“Hm. Sensible, but often unnecessary. Of course, you’d want more info to be more confident. All things considered, though...you’re fine. Go ask her right now and I bet it’d work out nice and smoothly. In my own humble and inexperienced opinion.”

The Flamebringer eyed her for a moment, then sighed. “Newt?”

“Yes?”

“You are absolutely terrible at talking to people.”

She nodded. “Fair.”

“...Thank you.”

Before turning to leave, Newt smiled. “I’ll ask you what I wanted to do tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Brighid sat at a two-seated round table at the bakery across from Abbie’s Fountain. Her usual dress had been replaced by a less telling outfit; at least most Gormotti would not recognize her now. Though that should have been enough to spur her to relax, public spaces never ceased to provoke the parts of her brain that habitually kept her actions restricted in order to best represent her nation.

“Hey there. You don’t look so great; what has you down?”

A young girl—a Blade? Brighid wasn’t positive—stood beside her table, head tilted to look at her face. Her outfit was comprised of greens and aquas, designed like large leaves, in a complex style that Brighid could not quite describe.

“Oh; it’s nothing, really. What’s your name, may I ask?”

“Oh, I’m Floren. Nice to meet you! My Driver let me look around while she went to go look for some things to buy. What’re you doing, wearing a dark coat like that? Are you okay?”

“I simply preferred to look anonymous today,” Brighid answered. “People might recognize me otherwise. Whether you know or not, I’m what people consider an ‘important figure’ here”

Floren nodded. “That makes sense. So you’re taking a break, or something? Why’s that?”

“Just for some time to think.” Brighid hesitated, but the girl’s imploring eyes prompted her forward. “Do you know how it feels to love someone?”

“Um...I think so. But it’s not always the same for everyone.”

“If you were in love with someone, but scared to admit it to them, what would you do?”

The girl turned to the side. “That’s a hard question. Sometimes you just...have to do things. Like...is it going  to be worse waiting and thinking, or possibly failing and dealing with that? You can always wait longer, but that only helps if the other person tells you first or if you find out that it’s okay to tell them. Me? I’d probably just try. But I dunno if you would want that.”

“Yes...I see your point.” Brighid observed the leaves floating down from the tree above. They swirled in defiance of gravity, circling like songbirds more than falling, seeming as if they would never reach the ground. “Thank you for your input.”

Floren clasped her hands behind her back, blushing somewhat. “Oh, it’s no trouble. Any time!”

“Here, wait just a minute. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you this. For talking with me.” Without thinking much of it, Brighid handed Floren a small painting. “Just something I bought from Cmalaf Artwork nearby. I wish you a good day.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to...thanks, though! Hope your day gets better too! See you around!”

Brighid placidly waved her off.  _ Quite the interesting girl. _ Slowly, her head lowered itself down against the wood of the table. What would she do? What  _ could _ she do?

Her mind flipped through the pages of her memories. Mòrag—she was an outlier. Pictures of her Driver’s constant protection, symbols of their equality, shows of reliance that were put in her—Brighid’s mind was suddenly flooded.  _ One day…. _


	10. Affinity, Part 8: Bolt to the Heart (A Spontaneous Affection)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along the way to Fonsa Myma, Mòrag and Brighid are pulled into a search for a missing Driver. The scenery at night is especially enchanting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go…  
> Enjoy.  
> Don’t forget to be awesome.

Bioluminescent light bathed Uraya’s stomach in a dark sunset’s palette of navy, indigo, and violet. In contrast, vibrant pink-orange glowed on the trees, almost looking like they were exuding their own heat. Petals floated down at a soft pace everywhere, making the color palette symmetrical with a similar shade of pink. Brighid could not help but gaze around in amazement at the rainbow of colors as she, Theory, and Mòrag made for Fonsa Myma.

“Hey there! Uh, excuse me! Could you lend us a hand here?” a voice called to the trio.

Brighid faced the sound. What seemed to be two Drivers were resting under a tree, one holding the other gently, with their Blades standing close beside them. Mòrag already was on her way up towards them, so she followed wordlessly.

“What’s the issue?” Mòrag inquired.

“Well, see, we just had a run-in with a blant, and Alcide here took a mean hit. He’s okay, but not up to a trek, and we don’t have our healer around—of course we didn’t pack to compensate, either. Mitra—that’s them, our healer—stayed behind at Eight-Rock Skip to go get something (they didn’t tell me what) at Garfont Village. We’ve been here a while now, so they should’ve been back by now, but….”

Mòrag nodded. “We should be able to go find them. We do have time, don’t we?”

“We should, though it will curtail our sleep a bit,” Brighid replied.

The Driver smiled thankfully. “Ah—great! Thanks a barrel. Or whatever that saying is.”

 

* * *

 

“According to my map, Eight-Rock Skip should be just a few hundred feet north of here, once we make it to the bottom of Minnet Terrace,” Mòrag observed, taking care not to rip it as she hurried forwards with it spread out in her hands.

“I had not known that was its name,” Brighid replied. “It’s fitting.”

“Let me deal with anything that attempts to attack us,” Theory offered. “You should keep up your pace, Lady Mòrag.”

“Thank you, Theory.”

Time passed at maximum speed. Closing in on their destination, Brighid felt a surge of energy in her system. “Is that a Driver in battle?” Mòrag asked.

“It looks like one,” Theory answered. “May I go help them first?”

“Please do,” said Mòrag.

Brighid watched Theory push forward with impressive speed, aided by her ice powers. “From the looks, actually, I think they’re doing all right. I cannot tell what she would be doing this far away from her group, but she is faring quite passably even without Theory, so far.”

“That’s good. Would it be wrong to slow our pace?”

“I don’t believe it could hurt.”

They stopped just before turning downhill on the terrace to look down at the battle below. “Yes; I think you’re likely right. The Driver and Blade are evidently winning.”

Brighid shifted her attention to herself—her heartbeat’s intensity was lowering now, but it still pounded against her chest. Spurts of exertion were not common in her daily life.

“I suppose we should speak to them,” Brighid eventually said.

“Yes; I believe you’re right.” As the Flamebringer strained to see what was happening below, she seemed to change her mind. “Actually...it looks as if Theory’s talking to them. We should be all right.”

“Are you positive? Even if she is,” (which Brighid could see fairly clearly was true,) “it would be unprofessional not to meet up with them.”

“...Maybe in a minute. I just want to absorb this place for a moment.”

The Jewel of the Empire nodded. “All right.”

Feeling the chill of the night air, the glowing orange of the trees beckoned welcomingly to Brighid. Gazing at the tall structures, thin rock bridges, and miniscule supports throughout felt dangerous—that at any moment they could suddenly break and disturb the silence. Petals speckling the landscape floated down sof—

“Brighid?”

“My lady?”

“It’s…hard to think.”

“Are you all right?”

She gazed at Brighid. Her cheeks reflected the color of the petals. “I….” She pressed her hand over her heart. “It’s beautiful.”

“Mòrag...what’s wrong?”

The Special Inquisitor wiped a hand over her forehead and then removed her cap. It fell out of her hands. Shaking, she leaned Brighid with her arms, face looking towards the ground.

Worried, Brighid stabilized her Driver with a hand. “Please. Tell me.”

For the longest time—or merely a second?—Mòrag said nothing, just shook. Then she looked up, made contact with Brighid’s eyes. “You’re...warm.”

Mòrag kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Haha....


	11. Affinity, Part 9: Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter. Mòrag and Brighid need a period of time for closure before returning to complete their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’ll just drop you right back in. (READ THE OTHERS first (dunno if it's possible to read this one first but still lol)! It would ruin it if this was the first chapter you read, haha.)  
> Enjoy. Stay awesome.

As soon as Mòrag’s lips pressed into Brighid’s, determination fluxed into her. Heat permeated her heart, and she moved her arms from her Blade’s shoulders into a tight embrace. She held contact for a moment, savoring the feeling, the taste.

Then her brain jump-started again, and she fearfully released Brighid. Seeing her eyes wide open in a daze, Mòrag spoke, “E—excuse me—I don’t know what I was—I’m so sorry—please forgive my idio—”

“Mòrag.” The command was a whisper.

“...Yes?”

Brighid’s eyes were soft, glimmering, and her mouth gradually bloomed into a smile. “You should have told me.” She stirred forwards.

In the next moments, Mòrag lost herself. Her identity—Brighid’s identity—everything was pushed to blackness. All she felt was the heat of their existence, the union between them that felt less like a mixture of two identities than a reconnection of two pieces. In the darkness of her perception erupted a column of flame, blue and red and fierce. At the mercy of her partner, she moved with Brighid, bobbing forwards and back with her, ebbing and flowing like symmetrical tides, crossing into each other more and more deeply.

This time, it was Mòrag who wore the overwhelmed expression. “You…” she attempted to say.

“I’ve existed a long time. Evidently my kissing instincts have been well honed.”

Still, the Inquisitor was unable to manage words. Her face was flushed, overcome with heat; she could see Brighid’s was as well.

“So...I suppose this means sharing a bed tonight won’t be an issue.”

The relief and humor brought her back to reality. She giggled, voice much higher-pitched than she wished it was. “I suppose so.”

The pair smiled at each other silently for another minute.

“We should probably help Theory now.”

“Probably so.”

Mòrag reached out to grab Brighid’s hand. It was already there for her.

 

* * *

 

They reached the hotel in Fonsa Myma just past eleven at night. Suddenly exhausted as soon as she saw a mattress, Mòrag hastened to change.

“Theory, which bed would you prefer?” Brighid asked.

“Either is all right. I’ll leave it up to you.”

Brighid nodded. “All right. Mòrag, what would you say to this one?”

“Any bed would suit me just fine at this point.” After placing her cap on the dresser, she began undoing her hair. “Do you want to change first?” She motioned towards the bathroom.

“No need,” Brighid replied. “You can just undress here. Don’t worry about staying warm; I’m sure you’ll be fine. Oh—and Theory, if you’re bothered, we can get you a separate room.” (Theory shook her head to this remark, replying, “It’s no trouble. I’m glad you’re happy.”)

Mòrag hesitated, embarrassed, then inclined her head. “Noted.”

A number of minutes later, the Inquisitor found herself curled up on one side of their bed, wearing nothing but her underwear. With Brighid next to her, the room was dimly lit by a flickering blue. “Brighid?”

“Yes?”

“Would you...mind?”

The Jewel of the Empire laughed placidly. “Not at all.”

Mòrag turned over under the covers, then wrapped her arms softly around Brighid’s waist, pulling herself up against her.

“Good night, Brighid.”

“Good night to you, my lady. Finally I can use that honorific to its full potential.”

It was Mòrag’s turn to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s our full character arc. I had fun with it. Of course, there’s still a little to be desired here—like showcasing others’ reactions to their relationship, addressing other issues they face, recreating that hot springs heart-to-heart, et cetera. This obviously took a turn in a very different direction than the previous chapters, so hopefully that’s okay with all of you, but I personally was fairly proud of my work. I hope you’ve enjoyed!


	12. Affinity (Spinoff): Together, as One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag and Brighid spend a night together in a particularly intimate fashion. (Yes, that means this is mature, for those who want to know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I suppose I was bound to do this eventually; I guess I'm far too gay to be able to hold back, lol. So that anyone who doesn't want to read mature stuff doesn't have to, I’m noting this as a spinoff in the series and not a formal installment (it'll still be listed in the series). Chronologically, based on the series, I’d put this towards the end of Chapter 4, likely not in Indol (that would probably be considered far too risky by at least one of them, haha...), and it would fit in just between Part 9 (Violet) and Part 10 (Confidential Relationship) of the series. Their conversation is already filled with enough ellipses without thinking about what would happen if a priest saw them.
> 
> Enjoy this semi-explicit fic with a nice side of theories on Blades' sex capabilities. And with that said, stay awesome! Let’s get into this.

As Mòrag prepared to go to sleep for the night, changing into her nightclothes, Brighid brushed her exposed shoulder with a finger—as always, its heat toned down to a safe level—but it still made her shiver in some perplexing form of excitement. “Brighid?” she responded.

“I've...been wanting to ask you about something for a while now.” Turning, Mòrag saw her sitting upright aside the bed, wearing nothing but her bra—straps loose—and panties, and thus Mòrag flushed deeply and kept turning, faster, so that she faced away from her again.

“Yes?”

“To be honest, I’m...unsure how to approach the topic, so I wanted to just ask you directly. To make things more straightforward. And easier, if you didn’t mind.”

“Is something the matter?”

Brighid shifted her weight on the bed; Mòrag heard the sheets rustling. “No. Just...do you know how you human women have, well, cycles of lust, might I call them?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Us Blades...for some reason—I cannot say why—have a similar cycle, but on different terms. Based on the necessary balance of ether inside us, having too much can be as much of a problem as too little. When our ether levels are high, we get an instinctual urge to let excess out, which is not unlike lust in humans. I mention it now since I’m...in that state currently, and….”

She received a nod in response. “You were hoping I could aid in the process?”

“...Something of that nature. The issue is only that I don’t know how open you are to doing that, considering the method….”

“Why? What is the method?”

Brighid took a breath. “For different Blades, different things are possible, but for a relatively fast purge, often that means….”

Noting the suggestive tone, Mòrag’s heart intensified. “Means….”

“...It often means some form of sexual activity.”

Simply hearing the words sent a icy-hot electric current through her body. She nodded slowly. “And you—were wondering my opinion?”

“If you would prefer not, I can always exercise as an alternative,” Brighid added quickly.

“No, it's fine—I mean, I would be all right with doing that...sort of thing...with you.” Slowly, a bit shakily, she faced Brighid again. “It’s just...I am the least experienced person in that field you will likely meet.”

Above the embarrassment weighing on the air in the room appeared Brighid’s soft laugh. “So this is a field now? Are we assigning positions to the governors?”

Mòrag, vicariously experiencing the amusement Brighid felt, laughed as well. “No. That would be horrifying. Just the two of us, it would be.”

“Better that way. I would not want Senator Roderich sharing in any such situation, as handsome as he may be.” Again she provoked in the Flamebringer a chuckle.

The pair sobered. “So...I suppose we are doing this now?” said Mòrag.

“Let’s,” Brighid consented. She unfastened her bra, slipped her panties off. Her forearms and legs glowed, more than usual, but Mòrag was fixated on the parts she had not seen before—she was unable to guess how hot her face—her entire body—actually was. With a complete lack of composure, she undressed completely, hundreds of times more self-conscious than the previous minutes. Slipping a sidewards glance at Brighid, she noted the same anticipating-yet-uncertain body language that she was certain she currently epitomized herself.

“How...does one go about this?”

As her answer, Brighid pulled Mòrag down on top of her on the bed, gazed at her with a combination of emotions that the Special Inquisitor could not even begin to name. “Experimenting, naturally.” She ran a finger down her Driver’s spine; combined with the sudden proximity, the feel of Brighid’s breasts against hers, Mòrag felt a desire near the back of her subconscious light up. As Brighid’s hand trickled down, it changed direction, made its way to Mòrag’s front, and in an instant, she knew where it was headed. She stiffened inadvertently, but when Brighid slowed, she curled her own fingers around the wrist and guided it down. Hot with desire now, yet terrified simultaneously, Mòrag held her breath before suddenly—exhilaratingly—it went inside her.

For a timeless period, she felt the inward and outward pulse as her own breaths, as the beating of her heart, the surging-stalling thoughts cycling through her; then, in a split second of determination, she took under reason of her freedom the choice to reflect Brighid’s actions, shadow them, and as soon as she found the entrance her Blade let out an unintelligible moan ( _Am I making noise as well?_ she wondered), and after a handful of seconds without being given sign to stop, Mòrag pushed on, mimicking the rhythm resonating inside her.

“That’s it…” Brighid whispered—though rather than a phrase with a controlled volume, it sounded the loudest thing she could say. “Go harder….”

She did. Their union fell into muscle memory. After a minute—a lifetime—Mòrag noticed the translucent, light-blue fluid that leaked out of Brighid. “Is that…?”

“Shush and fuck me,” she replied. “Don't get distracted on the battlefield.”

When Mòrag passed her attention to Brighid’s breasts, she realized just how enclosed her focus was; the same liquid that was below also soaked her chest, dripped down to her sides on the sheets, seemed to slowly flow out of her nipples—despite hers touching her Blade's, she had not seen nor felt this. Changing position slightly, rubbing sensually against her partner, she put a hand to Brighid's right breast and stroked it with a combination of relish and ecstasy that she had not known she possessed.

“It’s not fair that yours are this big,” Mòrag muttered.

“I’m sharing. No complaining. Besides, you look cuter when yours aren't too big.”

“Hm. And I do suppose that appearances are important in battle.”

Following an instantaneous urge, the Flamebringer brought her face down to her lover’s breasts, kissed them lovingly, buried herself in them as she touched herself. Brighid seemed to absorb through her pores the sensations Mòrag felt. “Keep coming at it,” she breathed. “Surrender is barred. My, in this state, you really forget everything, don't you?”

Mòrag smiled openly and continued—felt, existed, lived. They ascended together, physically no more than one whole, and there they stayed for the most vivacious moments of their life.

“I think...I’m balanced now,” Brighid exhaled, short of breath. “Th...thank you.”

The Flamebringer raised her head, then dipped it in understanding. “No...I...mean…thank you too.”

“Should we clean up?”

“No.” A beautiful warmth permeated Mòrag, and she wrapped Brighid in a soft hug. “I prefer things right here. Like this.”


	13. Affinity (Spinoff #2): Blade Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a quick excursion to Torigoth for Tora and Rex to sell some of their newly-acquired materials, Poppi unintentionally causes minor chaos. Due to the plans made in consequence, Brighid faces resistance getting Mòrag to participate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This excursion is directly after the events from Indol, we’ll say; instead of going directly to Tantal, the party stops at Torigoth for the purposes mentioned in the summary.
> 
> Partially inspired by a well-done fanart (source here: https://twitter.com/morisumeshi/status/971296271104438275). This ended up including a lot more about the other characters than my previous work, so that’s why it’s being counted as a spinoff fro the series (to those who don't know, the series focuses nearly exclusively on Mòrag and Brighid otherwise). Also, it's relatively pretty long. So have fun with that.
> 
> Enjoy! And don' forget...to be awesome!

Waiting outside Tora’s home in Torigoth, the cool shade drew Mòrag into a state of calm. Though she had grown up in Mor Ardain, the late-spring weather, filtered in high contrast, gave a special childhood-memory feel to the town. The breeze and shade were too cold to simply sit or walk leisurely; it seemed the optimal temperature for a child’s antics to be held outdoors.

“Poppi ready?” Tora asked, his voice muffled by the door.

“All set, Masterpon!”

A moment passed, and the door swished open. “Bye-bye, Dadapon! Will be back soon!” Tora called back as they made their way out.

“Ehm...Tora…” Nia began, “...what exactly is that Poppi’s wearing!”

“Oh! Th—this is, um, this new outfit for Poppi! Call it: Alpha Nopon Suit!”

The name was straightforward to understand. Fitted differently, surely, but it was as if Tora had given Poppi her own version of Tora’s daily wear—including, for some reason, empty ear-flap sleeves that dangled behind her.

“I can see the resemblance,” Zeke commented. “You two are practically brother and sister.”

“Um, Prince, Poppi is a robot,” Pandoria whispered. “And Tora is a nopon. What kind of familial resemblance do you see?”

“Oh—yes, of course—I knew that! The resemblance is just...aesthetic.”

“Masterpon says all Blades should have costume of Driver,” Poppi stated proudly. “He say it  _very_ important for bond!”

Zeke grinned. “Sayy...you make a fine point there. Whadda you think, Pandy? Fancy your own Zeke von Genbu cosplay outfit?”

“Nah. It’d probably start giving me the bad luck too. But d’ya think the same rule applies backwards?”

He proudly thumped his fist to his chest. “If that is what it takes, I will gladly don the style of my impeccable partner! Actually, hey, What a great idea. Isn’t that what they say...walkin’ around in another person’s shoes is the best way to really get to know ‘em? We should all try that!”

“Yeah, um, no.” Nia gave Zeke a look that could not be translated into uncensored words.

“But, my lady, surely you do not dislike the thought of a cat in a jumper?” Dromarch said.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of! Rex, you tell ‘em how terrible an idea this is!”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just...leave....” he responded, inching over to the stairs.

“You mean….” Poppi gazed at the floor. “That mean...costume not good idea...after all?”

Rex was the first to act. “No no no, it’s great! In fact, let’s just try that tomorrow evening, why don’t we?”

Tora’s Blade broke into an elated smile. “Hooray! Three cheers for more Masterpon memories!” Beside her, Tora laughed fearfully as Nia sent him a secret glare.

Rex’s relief quickly wore off, and he slowly crawled into the corner. “I’ve just scheduled my own funeral I’ve just scheduled my own funeral I’ve just scheduled my own funeral….” Half-bemused, Pyra eyed him quizzically.

 

* * *

 

“Actually, I’ve got one already made for you.”

The Flamebringer collapsed onto their bed at the inn. “Please explain to me why I have to participate in this, again. They didn’t even talk to us. And why do you already have a dress for me?”

“Think of Poppi’s face. You wouldn't want to disappoint an innocent child, would you?”

“Ack—you know very well I wish not to displease others, but something like this—”

“We can meet in Argentum; the nopon are too oblivious to have a clue who you are, particularly in an unusual outfit. And since I believe that is the main problem—”

“That is not the main problem!”

“—all that’s left is for you to be comfortable with it.”

“Which, if I may say so, would be considered practically impossible.”

Brighid sat down next to her. “Well, I can motivate you to stand it, at least.”

“Oh?”

Approaching closer, Brighid whispered into a now-blushing Mòrag’s ear, “Quotelettas with salad….”

“I appreciate your attempt at baiting my hand. It shall not work.”

“It can be just the two of us. I’ll pay. You’ll look cute—try it.”

“Last time I checked, there is nothing here for me to try.”

“Don’t fret. I contacted Hardaigh to request it be sent to me. Give it until tomorrow morning.”

Sighing, Mòrag further buried herself in the blankets. “Ugh. You know I cannot.”

“Well. I have accepted the challenge to change your mind. Don’t doubt the persuasiveness of my negotiation tactics.”

 

* * *

 

_This is not happening...I am not here...I don’t exist...nothing is strange...no one will notice…._

The Special Inquisitor, at her Blade’s behest, opened her eyes. “See? Beautiful,” Brighid stated proudly. Was it proudly? Mòrag could never tell. Reserved, trying to hide as much of her appearance as possible from her own eyes, she inspected the human-sized mirror (being in Argentum, there was also one in each room for nopon). Her hair, tied up as usual, looked entirely different than it did under a hat. Without any armor on them (nor anything at all, in fact) her shoulders looked soft and delicate—far too delicate for a Special Inquisitor, she thought. Worse, a strip down the middle of her torso was half-visible under the translucent cloth. The dress felt incredibly off—tight in all the wrong places, unfit for battle, loose and unwieldy around her legs and feet. “Considering that you’re able to battle in this sort of clothing...I have to be impressed.”

“Likewise, the amount of layers you wear daily is suffocating.” Brighid had tailored a replica in short sleeves and more breathable pants, but even that was hardly a complete solution; she observed its fit with satisfaction nonetheless.

Mòrag glanced back at her reflection, and blushed deeper. “I think I would prefer to find a nice little corner to hide in.”

“Come now; this will be fun. Let’s see what the others are doing. They must already be out at the canteen after all the fuss you put up about this.” She hooked her elbow around Mòrag’s arm.

Rumbletum Canteen was a scene. Zeke was the natural spirit of the party, just as flamboyant in his unique attire. Pandoria, the first to notice them, grinned and called them over. “Welcome! Zeke’s already pledged to buy everyone a drink!”

“What? Don’t you know how little mon—eh, whatever. Firsts are on me!”

At the same table sat Nia, not half as irritated as anyone had expected, practically smothered by a fur coat and a sheepish expression. Seeing them, she raised a hand in greeting. “H—oh, uh, hi, you two….”

“Might there be a seat you few could spare my lady here?” Brighid requested. Her tone impersonated colloquialism.

“Yeah, sure. Right ‘ere.” Nia glanced at the pair. “Hey, Mòrag, you look...really good. Um, you too, Brighid.”

“You as well—I mean, thank you—that is, th—”

Brighid poked her Driver, immediately quieting her. “Please excuse her. She’s a little embarrassed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m betting that you aren’t gonna be the only one, seeing as Rex isn’t out yet,” she grinned. “Plus, a time where I can poke fun at both the Special Inquisitor of Mor Ardain and the Driver of the Aegis? This is turnin’ out better than I thought.”

“You should learn from Rex to be more of an optimist,” Dromarch suggested, lying quite peacefully on the ground beside the table.

“Yes! Being happy good for heart and circulation,” said Poppi. “Masterpon says happiness useful for many things.”

“I guess you’re glad he designed you to be able to be happy, then,” Pandoria said.

Tora and Poppi exchanged a smile.

“We’re here!” said Pyra.

“Architect, Pyra, could you please not announce it like that?”

“Stop hiding, you. After Vale went to all that trouble to help, it’s rude not to put it to good use.”

At the moment Nia saw Rex, she burst out in hilarity. “It fits you so well!” she snorted. “You know, Pyra’s right; you oughta use that more!”

“Here’s a seat.” Pyra pulled him over and sat him down next to Mòrag (despite Rex’s protests of “I’d like it much better just to go hide somewhere” and “come on, can’t I at least use that hoodie you had in Torigoth?”).

“Greetings.”

“H—hey, Mòrag. How’re you...doing?”

“When they’re distracted, I suggest we run.”

He laughed, his aura of humiliation dissipating somewhat. “That’d be a joke, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Quickly, the conglomeration descended into disorganized banter.

“So, Brighid,” Pandoria said, “you look pleased.”

“Well, getting my own Driver to assent was more of a chore than it must have been for you,” she replied, “but yes; there was payoff.”

Pandoria gave a knowing smile that only Brighid and Zeke were quite able to interpret. “Yeah, well, Zeke’s bad luck only gets worse when he’s passionate about something, so...let’s just say we had some external issues.”

“I won’t ask.”

“So Nia not angry now?”

“Nah. It was nothing.”

“It not seem like nothing yesterday.”

“Well—that was just—I was thinkin’ of something else, okay?”

“Ah. Tora get it.”

For a number of hours, the conversation continued, branching out to more mundane things. Eventually, the party decided that it would be best to get some sleep before their journey to Tantal the next morning. Falling down onto the bed for a second time, Mòrag let out a sigh.

"Not as bad as you had expected?" Brighid asked.

"Not as bad," she echoed. "But interaction is tiring."

The Jewel of Mor Ardain nodded. "I can see that. Fortunately for you, you don't have to talk at all for the next eight hours."

"True enough."

Brighid turned to say something else, but Mòrag was already asleep. "Oh well. I suppose I did tell her she could." After undressing, she carefully climbed in; her Driver instinctively wrapped her arms around the warm shape in her slumber. "Good night, then."


	14. Affinity, Part 9.5: Vicarious Grief (A Shoulder to Lean On)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like the rest of the party, Mòrag and Brighid are drained and hopeless after their battle at Genbu Crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! This one's a saddie. I liked the combination of closeness and depression here, since it provokes two different types of tears at once. To try to write Morag's grief-wracked expression near the end, I practiced it myself and observed the feeling I wanted to capture. If I do say so myself, I make a good mournful face, haha.
> 
> Hope this one elicits some feels. Be awesome, and I dearly hope that you don't ever experience a melancholy this extreme.

An hour’s worth of bleak footsteps impressed upon the layer of snow on the ground. The snow was thick and damp, and it clung to their already-wet clothing with the appeal of a wet ball of dust. Beside Mòrag, Brighid was having difficulty dispelling it from her dress; Tora and Dromarch were struggling the most, being entirely covered in fur, and yet Mòrag could not bring herself to look positively at things.

Nia had sent Boreas to communicate back to Theosoir their status; King Eulogeminos had offered to fetch them back from Genbu’s crown, but the party had agreed that it was impossible for a retrieval squad to make the full journey; they had arranged a compromise rendez-vous point at Great Pillar Passage.

Brighid took inventory on the state of the party. Mòrag—depressed, looks terrible, but faring well. Tora—freezing but alive. Poppi—psychologically crushed. Alive. Nia—emotionally dead, barely conscious, riding on Dromarch. Alive. Dromarch himself—somber, but safe. Zeke—furious, but too drained to do anything. Pandoria—well-off, but not by any means happy. Rex—silent, likely dying on the inside. Ursula and Newt, as well as Nia’s, Rex’s, and Zeke’s other Blades, were all in a similar vegetative state.

“That them?” said Tora weakly. He waved an ice-crusted arm in the general direction of what seemed to be an approaching group.

“Probably.” Zeke’s voice trailed off before he finished the word.

“...Boreas, would you…” began Mòrag.

A large path of flattened snow suddenly began steaming beside her before she could finish, and she noted his green aura dissipating. “It’s them.”

“All right. Does...anyone want to help expedite their trip over here?”

Newt and Perun offered; the rest were too tired to bother. In a number of minutes, the squad of Tantalese soldiers and accompanying transport Titans reached them, and helped those in the group (who desired it) to get onto the Titan. Brighid escorted Mòrag on, positioning herself so that she and her Driver could lie on each other comfortably—making sure to leave adequate room next to them for Nia and Dromarch as well.

Briefly, their noses touched, and Brighid breathed, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“And I’m...glad I have you here to say so.” She closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Mòrag’s fist struck the wall of their room in Theosoir. From her wince, Brighid could tell the impact had hurt. “Damn it all!”

Brighid’s heart felt swollen; she could only barely handle Mòrag’s emotions as well. “My lady—don’t trouble yourself. There was nothing we—”

“Nothing we could have done! Absolutely nothing! That’s never true; you know it. Every moment—words, actions—one phrase, one movement can change everything. Yet—I never tried—not even an attempt—damn it!” She leaned on the wall with her forearms, fists clenched, facing away from Brighid.

“Mòrag...I’m so sorry….” Full of care, she extended a hand to touch her back gently, to soothe her quaking form. “But please, don’t stress so much over things we cannot go back and change.”

The Flamebringer turned, let her back on the stone keep her upright. “Things cannot end like this...we cannot...stop here….” Muscles drained, she obscured her face with a hand and sank to the ground, drew a breath—heavy, shaking.

Kneeling down beside her, Brighid embraced the Flamebringer. “Nothing is over yet. We won’t quit now. Don’t lose hope, all right? You’re strong. You’re facing the most powerful Blades to exist, and you’ve lasted so long already. No giving up; I’m still with you.”

Mòrag nodded. “Of course. You’re right. But still...this weakness...it’s so frustrating." A quiver in pitch caught in her throat; her voice fractured, and Brighid broke.

“Architect—Mòrag, how did this happen? How could we let this happen? After all our trouble, it amounts to nothing? Please, tell me it isn’t as bad as it feels.” Tears pulled lightly on her cheeks as they rolled downwards; they sizzled as they fell on her core crystal, and she held her lover tighter.

Watching, paralyzed, Mòrag’s mouth opened unconsciously, grimacing, almost looking like a smile for a moment, before her eyes trembled, then squeezed shut and expelled tears from the sides. An outward breath, like a slow instinctual cough, twisted her stomach inwards, echoing into a sequence of sobs that shook both women with despair.

Brighid was unable to think anything, yet subconsciously she and Mòrag both knew: this shared desolation, this overpowering force that they were being crushed under together, was rescuing them from the endless grief that was too much for either of them to bear. Somewhere in her soul, echoing inside Mòrag simultaneously, a voice cried out, _Thank you. You’re saving me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Boreas in this fic (and in general) kind of breaks a lot of plotlines, since he’s so insanely fast, so any ideas that you all might have as to what else he could have done to help are completely valid. I’m just pretending they don’t exist, haha.


	15. Affinity, Part 10: Confidential Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag and Brighid, lacking their normal foresight, are noticed...doing things...by Zeke and Pandoria the evening before their trek into Spirit Crucible Elpys. A rousing and somewhat awkward conversation between the quartet assures the Jewel of Mor Ardain and her Flamebringer that this confidentiality is not particularly necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted, this is part ten, and the first post-main-arc entry. Reading the earlier parts isn't necessary, but I'd recommend it if you like this one.
> 
> I often get irritated by when (in anime, mostly) a character interrupts a nice love scene, but somehow, when a friend of a pair of lovers catches them in the act, some way or other, I like it. Who knows why; maybe it’s just one of those other weird parts of me. In a twist of fate, here we have not one, but two people simultaneously seeing a pair of lovers, and it actually turns into a serious conversation. Doing stuff like that feels pretty satisfying to me; hopefully you feel the same reading it, haha. Enjoy, as always, and let the amazingness that sits within you guide you towards a better set of tomorrows.

“If it’s all the same to you, Brighid and I could use an early retreat to bed,” Mòrag stated to her companions.

“Of course.” Corinne smiled. “Would you like me to show you to a room?"

“Thank you; we should be all right ourselves, however. No need to trouble yourself.”

She inclined her head. “Rest well, then. From what I can tell, tomorrow will be a taxing job.”

Brighid led her Driver inside what must have functioned as a guest house for the town. “This room, I assume,” she said, opening it and beckoning for Mòrag to deposit her pouch by the door. Mòrag turned off the light, leaving her Blade’s sapphire glow illuminate them.

“I had a thought earlier,” Mòrag said. “Sunsets are often depicted as the most picturesque type of sky, but I have found myself more partial to the twilight sky. Not quite black, more a deep navy. It’s relaxing, particularly with the stars out.”

Stepping towards the Flamebringer, Brighid wrapped her forearm around Mòrag’s back, fingering her waist. “Why limit yourself to letting the sky please you? I, for one, would choose a night under you over a night under the stars.”

“You write too much; I never get to be the one who says the romantic lines.” Mòrag brushed Brighid’s neck with a soft kiss. Her Blade twitched mildly instinctively, glowing brighter for a moment. “Evidently my lips are better suited to this purpose.”

Fluidly, Brighid pulled Mòrag in closer, reciprocating by caressing Mòrag’s cheek with her own lips. Already stimulated by the touch, Mòrag—removing her gloves—immersed her fingers in Brighid’s hair, delicately swirling it around her fingertips, and tilted her face so that her mouth grazed her Blade’s. They connected, baited each other by swaying ever-so-slightly in and out, and the fire that suffused the Blade engulfed the Driver in overwhelming depth….

“...can take this one here on the right.”

“Thanks, Corinne.”

“Man, am I glad we can take a rest now.”

“You’re tellin’ me, Pandy? After all that work, I’m sodding drained….”

The voices, which the pair barely sensed at first, loudened a notch just as light penetrated the room. Zeke and Pandoria, silhouettes against the brighter backlighting, faced the pair—were they staring? Mòrag was unable to tell. At the sudden change in atmosphere, she abruptly detached herself from Brighid. “Um—excuse us—was this the wrong room?”

“N...no; I don’t think we were given any in particular…” Zeke replied.

Pandoria, fortunately, dissolved the uncomfortable silence. “Well, I for one am all for this. The Special Inquisitor and her Blade, getting intimate in secrecy—it's so cute. Are you actually married and we don't even know?”

Mòrag took an instinctive step backwards behind her Blade. “Don't—do you realize how rude—" She paused, then sighed, flustered. "To be perfectly honest though...I’m hardly surprised. You seem like the sort who would talk about these things just like any other subject.”

Still slightly cautious, Zeke flashed a mellow grin. “You’re not wrong, let me tell ya.”

“What we do together is private business,” Brighid said with a frown, “but I can certainly tell you that it's even better than it is inappropriate.” Her expression gave way to a small mischievous smile, eliciting an interested “oohh” from Pandoria.

“This is a character dynamic I was not expecting…” Mòrag stated, avoiding as much focus on the current situation as possible.

“Well, I guess surprises come from everywhere,” Zeke said.

“You don't let out any hints at all in public,” Pandoria pointed out; “Don't you feel kinda dissatisfied like that?”

“No; it's—” The frankness of the question threw her. She glanced Brighid, then changed her response. “That’s...simply a side effect of being part of the Ardainian government."

Zeke shrugged. “But do ya really have to? I mean, especially out in the boonies of Leftheria, who's gonna care? Not that I'm telling you to make out in broad daylight, but what part of that would hurt?”

“See, the issue with that is, Zeke, that Mòrag is cripplingly shy,” Brighid smiled.

“Well, you know what they say….” Pandoria tilted her head to Zeke, and they spoke in unison. “Practice gives the idiot capability.”

“I'm...fairly certain no one says that,” Mòrag commented, impressed but confused at their perfect harmony.

Brighid extended an arm around her Driver's waist. “But I would wager it works.” Mòrag's cheeks warmed.

“See? Brighid gets it,” Pandoria said. “Us Blades always understand before our Drivers do. It's an unfortunate curse of our kind.”

“Oi! I'm not that much of an idiot, Pandy. You underestimate my true abilities.”

“I dunno. I always thought you were only good in combat. Too stubborn to die, or something.”

Zeke dropped a reproachful glare at his Blade, and they both laughed.

“In any case, your reassurances are well-appreciated,” Brighid told them. “Perhaps we could consider being slightly more open in the future.—Were you hoping to take this room, actually?”

“Nah. We can use another. Doesn’t matter as long as it’s got a bed,” Zeke responded. "And even just a floor is better than some of the places we've had to sleep."

Brighid nodded. “Well, then, sleep well. I have a feeling tomorrow won’t feel any shorter.”

After the pair left, Mòrag once again closed the door—making sure to lock it.

“Something about those two...they make a good influence,” Brighid said.

Mòrag sat down on the side of the bed. “Well, certainly, they will doubtless have a large part in deciding how I—for one—act in public. If I embarrass our nation, let it be said now that I’m laying the blame on them.”

The Jewel of Mor Ardain chuckled, calmly petting Mòrag’s now-uncovered hair. “Afraid of abandoning your timid disposition? My. We have a lot of work to do on you.”


	16. Affinity, Part 11: Burned Out (The Liability of Faithfulness)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to a blunder by Mòrag, Brighid launches herself into a brief rescue mission, quite literally. The aftermath requires that Brighid stay inactive for a period while recovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, Mòrag. How could you do this. Your lack of foresight put Brighid into a classic trope situation. What scheming.
> 
> I really don't get the Cloud Sea. It's made out of clouds, which look cloud-y because they're not too dense (I think) but in order for it to be a "sea," much less a sea nearly identical to water, it'd have to be really dense. It's made out to be nothing more than a light coating on top of a large body of water-like liquid, yet at the same time, whichever character you use doesn't swim in the liquid itself but in the clouds on top of it. Maybe I'm just confusing myself and not thinking hard enough about it, but I'm just treating it as essentially water with a dense-as-water fluffy white coating on top.
> 
> Anyway. Here we have some mostly lighthearted shipping fluff. Enjoy! And, as ever, keep up your progression from amazing to near-perfect (as perfect as a human can be).

 “Mòrag, are you daft? Stay away from the edge! What happens if—”

The Flamebringer cut Zeke off with a flourish of her hand. Brighid noted the sweat that launched itself off her Driver’s arm. “I need to keep attacking it so it doesn’t get aggravated at someone else! Perceval, for love of the Architect, stay out of this; there’s only one enemy!” She struck the unique monster with her whipswords, maiming a leg.

“My lady, please calm yourself,” Brighid warned. “This isn’t as bad as it looks. Rex, topple it!”

“Doin’ my best, but it’s hard to catch a flying taos—” he grunted. “Roc, it’d be great if you could redirect it.”

“What you need is some bloody ‘ealing, Rex,” Nia responded, initiating an art.

“Thank you, Nia—” Mòrag, suddenly, noted Scandia swooping toward her, and she sidestepped. Yet, somehow, she had forgotten the taos’s wingspan, and it caught her in the stomach, thrusting her backwards into the air.

Poppi gasped. “Mòrag!” She charged towards her falling comrade, but a second enraged taos was just returning, and not pleased with a battle on its favored perch—“That must've been why they named this bugger,” Zeke groaned; “Another wind! Think you can counter it, Perun?”

The words faded from Brighid’s ears; she had already surged over the edge of the Titan after Mòrag. The Cloud Sea raced toward her in a blur, and she scarcely had the time to take a breath before hitting the ocean. She looked around for Mòrag, but the sea inhibited her ability to sense anything. Surfacing, she called out, and turned about in fear. Seeing no one, she steeled her senses and dived down. She knew nothing about swimming; she was working merely on her knowledge of the physics behind it. Water clung to her body, pressed in on it, seemed to suffocate her.

A struggling form caught her attention. She pushed herself forward, tried to lighten the pressure in front of her with flames to hasten to her Driver, and grabbed hold of the figure. The pair floated up to the surface.

“Brighid!” the Special Inquisitor gasped. “What are you doing?! You can’t survive in water!”

“Neither do I live if you die, love.” She coughed. Her body felt half-paralyzed. Mòrag helped her tread water.

“Your flames….” Worried, she yelled up towards Godsford Isle, hundreds of feet above them. “We need assistance! Please!”

Approaching forms of Poppi and Roc appeared. “Mòrag and Brighid both too reckless!” Poppi scolded, seizing Mòrag by the waist carefully and pulling her upwards.

“Please excuse our lacking sense,” Mòrag responded. “Thank you. You as well, Roc.”

“No worries. This is the natural choice to make.”

Brighid looked—and very obviously felt—drained.  _Architect_ , the Flamebringer cursed _. If ever there was a terrible choice for her to make._ “Brighid...you never cease to amaze me with your blind loyalty. It’s very heartwarming. Please stop.”

 

* * *

 

“Mmnugh….”

Brighid let conscious seep back into her. Her head ached, her arms and legs numb, and an overwhelming chill saturated her veins.

“Welcome back.” Mòrag’s voice came from above her; she opened her eyes to determine quite where. “Did you enjoy your fall?”

“It was magnificent. I’m overjoyed to have been able to share such a memory with you.”

“Would you do it again? I am certain I could provide you with another opportunity if you desired it.”

Brighid sneezed. (“Bless,” Mòrag said, handing her a tissue. Brighid accepted it gratefully.) “Despite the appeal, I wouldn’t wish to trouble you with such a mundane task.”

Running her eyes over her Blade, Mòrag asked, “How do you feel?”

“Not much worse than I did returning from Genbu Crown.”

“Ah. Good. So I can leave you to your rest.” She turned.

“My lady! How could you leave me?! What has become of your love?!”

A laugh set Brighid’s half-worried heart at ease. “I jest. But I’m not getting in the bed with you, even if you aren’t exactly sick. Sleeping during the day only ever leaves me more exhausted.”

“Aww. You’re no fun.”

“Fun isn’t in my job description.”

Brighid smiled, in spite of how completely terrible she felt. “This is a special occasion; you’re allowed to have fun. On an unrelated note, can you do something for me?”

“Of course. What did you need?”

“How fast can Vale make you a nurse outfit, do you think?”

She sighed. “Always this. No. I’m certain that would take far too long.”

“I’d be willing to bet Tora has one for Poppi. Can you ask him?”

“First of all, that would be nearly certain not to fit me, even if it were for one of her advanced forms. Second of all, I’m going to have to add you to the list of people I’ve asked to die in a fire.”

“Oh. Who will I be joining?”

“Zeke.”

“And?”

“Just Zeke.”

“Oh. Your list is surprisingly small.”

“You don’t seem particularly worried about being on it.”

“Yes, well, I have good reason.” She withdrew her palm from under the covers and kindled a small, quivering flame. “It might take some time to subdue me that way.”

“...You aren’t wrong.” The air grew silent for a long moment. Brighid listened to the wildlife outside, the chirps and rustlings coalescing into a soothing, pitchless murmur.

Mòrag paced a slow circle around the room. “Is there anything that you think could help your recovery? I understand it can be difficult to heat a flame that is already burning.”

“If you can find some sort of fuel that would help, it would be appreciated, but, myself being a Blade, I don’t believe there is much to be done.”

Bowing her head, she made for the door. Then, changing her mind, she shifted courses and returned to the side of Brighid’s bed. “You require more effort to care for than that arduran outside Torigoth.” She leaned over to place a kiss on Brighid’s forehead. “Let me see what I can do about an oil bath.”

Brighid watched her leave, let the lovingness in her Driver's words wash over her. She suddenly felt warmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not completely sure what I'm going to write about next. I've got ideas, including the obligatory visits to Mor Ardain field, (spoilers) S.C. Elpys, and (extra spoilers) Cliffs/Land of Morytha and the World Tree, as well as meeting a superboss, reenacting or expanding upon a heart-to-heart, and bonding experience with others (e.g. Rex and Pyra/Mythra, Tora and Poppi, Niall and/or Aegaeon) or some of the rare Blades (e.g. Ursula because she shares a favorite item with Mòrag). Any suggestions would be welcome, of course! Hope you liked it.


	17. Affinity, Part 12: Tiring Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elpys is a taxing place to be in for Brighid, but Mòrag has some difficulty acquiescing to her requests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember my first time going through Elpys. Once I got to around the Helical Cloister, I lost all sense of direction, lol. The Spirit Crucible is one of the most player-unfriendly areas in the game honestly. For Mòrag and Brighid, who are used to very open landscapes, this is more than a small issue for both of them—Brighid especially, as one would expect.
> 
> This ended up being a lot more inane than I had hoped; it had started out just as a way to show the pair inside Elpys, but I wanted it to end up becoming something more substantial than that. Call it some sort of filler while I work on the other, better stuff (e.g. New Alrest, e.g. a fic with Niall, e.g. a sorta depressing pre-relationship fic)(I had to take a hiatus since I got inspiration for a new EDM song to make and then a vacation trip, otherwise this'd have been finished earlier). Stay as awesome as ever, and enjoy.

“Ugh, this place is so confusing,” Nia groaned. “I can’t tell which way’s supposed to be forward.”

“If it is in any way connected to your cond—”

“No, Dromarch; I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to keep going if there’s an issue,” Brighid said. “I must agree that the way forwards is somewhat difficult to perceive; if you like, Mòrag and I can go forward to help expedite our progress.”

“No, really; you don’t need to worry about me,” Nia said.

“Well, I like the idea. This place is really weighin’ on me.” Zeke leaned up against a wall.

Rex agreed. “Yeah, maybe we should sit down for a bit. Pyra, you feeling okay?”

“I’m all right. A rest would be nice, though.”

Mòrag nodded. “Then it’s settled. We shall be back in a number of minutes. Until then.”

“Have fun!” Pandoria called after the pair; only Brighid glanced back to notice her grin.

 

* * *

 

Less than a minute’s distance from the rest of the party, Mòrag led Brighid farther into the Spirit Crucible. The stifling air and smothering darkness were already perturbing her; _Brighid’s discomfort must be even greater,_ she was certain.

She glanced at her Blade. “You’re shaking.”

“Hm? No, I’m fine. What could you be talking about?”

“You’re. Shaking.”

Stopping, resting her hand on the rough rock wall, Brighid sighed. “You’re no fun. But truly, I can handle it.”

“Are you trying to act strong, or to make yourself faint?” Mòrag said.

“Both, I suppose.” She sat down. “Mind stopping for a minute?”

“Feel free.” The Flamebringer lowered herself down beside her.

Breathing out softly, Brighid laid her head on her Driver’s shoulder. “My flames are much weaker at this depth; don’t worry.”

“I wouldn’t worry about something like that.”

“Your appearance is more important than your safety, you say? I hate to call someone a hypocrite, but….”

“That’s different. I know you take care not to hurt me. Now be quiet; talking expends energy, and you’ll be needing it for our trek.”

As naturally as breathing, Brighid ignored the suggestion. “Perhaps you should carry me some of the way; I’m sure that would conserve more of my energy.”

“...I can’t say that I could do that. You know we should be keeping our involvement secret.”

“Anyone who assumes that from seeing you carrying me must already have suspicions,” Brighid countered. “Plus, don’t I matter more?”

“Why don’t you just let me support you instead?” The Flamebringer said. “But of course I will do whatever you ask if you need it.” She pressed a light but caring kiss on her Blade’s head, and Brighid instinctively nestled closer to her.

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I argue?” Standing slowly, she leaned against Mòrag’s weight. “I’ll give you my request later.” It was then that her eyes shifted to the tunnels around them, the glittering fluorescent lights surrounding them, and they glinted, grinned, at their beholders. Now she could discern colors within the light, slight glowing hues that hid inside balls of whiteness.

“If it weren’t such an exhausting place, I would want to stay here a little longer,” Mòrag said. “But enough of that. Let’s finish our reconnaissance.”

Another dozen minutes later, Brighid and Mòrag met the remainder of their compatriots a small distance from where they had left them. “You have a better clue where we’re headed, I hope?” Dromarch asked.

“More or less. We can certainly expedite the process,” the Special Inquisitor said. “We should hurry; staying down here any more than mandatory would be detrimental.”

“Brighid okay?” inquired Tora, noting her leaning full on the Flamebringer.

“She's fine. Just...conserving energy,” Mòrag replied.

“Ah. Tora get it.”


End file.
